


Path of Least Resistance

by Snowden



Series: Olivine Canon [7]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5488229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowden/pseuds/Snowden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Volkner owes Morty a debt, one which he will never be able to repay. An innocuous visit quickly turns from ordinary, to chilling, to tragic.<br/>A side-story to Olivine Romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Confrontation

Pounding. Not knocking. Way harder than necessary. That’s unusual for him. He’s supposed to be the smooth, subtle one between the two of us.

I got up and let him in.

As soon as we came face-to-face, he broke into his usual smug grin. It’s hard to stare him in the eye. No, it’s not any crap like he can stare into your soul or whatever. It’s just a gaze of a guy who’s full of himself.

“Hey Volks.”

I glanced up to him for a moment, then resumed my 1000-yard stare into his shoelaces.

“How’re you doing? Holding up?”

“Eh.”

“Ooo! Nice firepower!” He gestured eagerly to the gun laying on the counter. “What is it? Armsman? Strelnazbran?”

“Folgen,” I said.

“Oh, cool. What’s the cal?”

“Point-45.”

“Mmm.” He nodded, impressed, or giving off the impression he was impressed.

“Semi-auto?”

“Probably.”

“Looks nice. Folgen’s a pretty high-end brand, they make quality stuff I’ve heard. Can I take a look?”

I hesitated. He took advantage of that, stepping inside and making a move for the gun.

“Okay,” I gave him belated, half-hearted permission. He heard me. In an instant the weapon was in his hands and being torn to pieces. The magazine was ejected, followed by the chambered bullet. The slide was dislodged and the barrel came apart. The safety was locked in. It was maybe seven seconds before he was hurling the ammunition out the door and into the bushes. Too fast for me to react.

Morty began shaking all over.

“What. The. Fuck.”

He tossed the disassembled remnants of the gun back onto the counter, like it was some dead, rotted critter.

“What the fuck,” he repeated.

I kept staring right on through him.

“Come here,” he ordered.

I didn’t budge.

“Come here.” There’s anger in his voice. He grabbed me by the shoulder, clawing into my skin. I was dragged, against my will, to the couch and thrown into the cushions. Morty began pacing back and forth in front of me.

“Fuck. Fuck Volkner. Arceus sakes. What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“Nothing. Everything,” I replied.

“Don’t give me that.”

He squatted down right in front of me, staring me down. I still couldn’t look him in the eye.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Tauros-shit.”

“Just get the fuck out,” I snapped, but without the hostility in my voice to actually intimidate him into obeying. Instead, I just incensed him. He smacked me. Hard.

“Cut the crap. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong. It’s my business. You’ve done enough.”

“Volkner you piece of shit!” He grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head, physically forcing me into a stare-down. You can’t tell someone’s soul from their eyes. But you can tell their emotion. Morty was pissed off. More so than I’ve ever seen in our two years of knowing each other. Can’t blame him.

“Let me go,” I muttered.

“I am _never_ letting you go.” He jerked me around and then threw me back into the couch cushion, letting me go in the process- but I knew I wasn’t off the hook.

“What do you want? Attention? Pity? Do you want to hurt me? Hurt your friends? Your family? Is that it?”

“None of that,” I shook my head.

“What is it then? Huh? A desperate cry for help? For attention?”

Again I shook my head in the negative.

“It wasn’t a fake-out. I was really going to go through with it,” I said.

“So why the fuck am I here? Why did you call me?” he demanded to know.

I managed a glance to the coffee table. The cordless phone was still there, right where had I left it after two hours of conversation.

“I don’t know.”

Shit, you do know, you’re just not man enough to actually tell him.

“Cut the crap. What’s going on?”

I didn’t answer. That ticked him off even more. He rolled up his sleeve, lurched back, and swung his fist full-force into my face.

It didn’t hurt me, just sort of sent me into a blackout. I couldn’t see anything but flashes for a good few seconds. My mind blanked. Morty’s voice was remote, muffled-sounding. I could make out curses. When I came to he was nursing his bleeding knuckles, but still staring at me dead-on. His expression was wrath- which in itself was scary, because I’ve never seen him truly angry before. I didn’t think this lackadaisical comedian had it in him. I was wrong.

Better tell him something, before I get slugged again.

“I called you because I thought you’d understand. Because of…”

“No, I don’t understand at all,” he cut me off, vehemently refuting me. “I’ve never looked down that road, never even imagined it. You don’t get me. But I’m glad you made that mistake, since now I’m here. Now what’s wrong? Where did this come from?”

I inhaled.

Yeah, even now, he’s an annoying contrarian. He doesn’t understand.

“How the hell do you not get it? Everyone you’ve lost, you’re telling me you can’t understand where I’m at?” I argued.

He drew his arm back, like he was getting ready to clock me again, but this time settled for a knuckle on the forehead.

“Yeah, you don’t get me,” he affirmed. “Everything I’ve been through, everyone who’s been taken from me- yes, it hurts, and yes, it made me wander into dark places. But it never made me want to follow them. It’s the other way. It’s made me want to keep living, no matter what. It’s made me want to hold everything and everyone I still have even tighter. Including you.”

He seated himself on the coffee table. His chest was heaving, his hands were still nursing the bruised knuckles. He looked to the ceiling in prayer, then the ground, then me. Exhaustion was setting in for both of us.

“What’s the matter? It’s not the usual, is it?”

“Sure it is,” I said.

“Ha ha, no. Don’t tell me you got this way because of boredom.”

“I put a barrel of badges outside the gym,” I explained with a smirk. “Anyone who wants can take one. Freebie.”

“They could fire you for that,” Morty warned.

“So? It wouldn’t have mattered to me, would it?”

“Damn it.” He muttered to himself. “I can fix your work record for you. I can’t fix _you_. Especially if you keep lying to me.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

Let him believe what he wants. I’m bored, Pokemon battles don’t excite me anymore. Ditto for my tech hobby. I’ve run out of reasons to keep going. That’s my story.

Unfortunately, that kind of stuff doesn’t fly past a guy as perceptive as Morty. Add in his absurd “gift”, and, well…

“A letter,” he said to himself.

Fuck.

He began searching around, frantically. It took him a minute, until he realized he had been sitting on it. He snapped the note up. I didn’t want him to read it, but didn’t have the fortitude to stop him. He held it up, but then lowered it before reading it.

“This isn’t your handwriting,” he noted.

I shook my head.

“No.”

“Who sent it?”

“It wasn’t sent.”

“Whose is it? How’d you get it?”

“I…” I clamped up.

It was in a box full of personal belongings they had given me. I hadn’t bothered to check it for a year, leaving it unopened, untouched, until the spiral of darkness sent me scampering for any last refuge of sanity. What I found there wasn’t a refuge. More like a window to hell. A cold, bitter hell.

Morty saw my reticence and turned to read the letter. Immediately he looked up again.

“Who is Gill?”


	2. Meeting

“I’m Gill. Pleased to meet you.”

I was looking down on a dark bob of hair. He was like a fourth grader to me. When the bob turned up to face me, I was met with a beaming smile, bleeding lips, and two black eyes.

“Volkner,” I said, pointing a thumb to myself. “You alright?”

“Uhhhh… yeah!”

I looked over his shoulder. Flint was kicking the ass of one last straggler, encouraging him to join his fleeing buddies. Elekid and Magby saw him off with one last Electric/Fire combo. The curb around us was replete with the signs of a Pokemon battle. Although, it was more a mixed Human/Pokemon brawl than a dignified match.

“What grade are you?” I asked.

“Sixth,” he answered. “From Tochikata Middle.”

“You look like a fourth-grader,” I told him.

Tochikata. No wonder we’ve never seen him. He’s in our grade, but his school is on the other side of Veilstone. What was he doing in our neighborhood? Of course the Team Galactic wannabes would jump on him.

“Yeah. I get that a lot,” he said, shrugging, still smiling.

Eh. I can see more than one reason the brick-heads would be after him, just by looking at him. He’s small, baby-looking, has a stupid haircut, and that perpetual goody-face would tick a bully off. Oh, he’s picking up a pair of glasses too. Great. This kid has “wimp” and “naïve” plastered all over him in giant neon letters.

“Thank you for helping me. I was a little scared when they pulled things out of their backpacks, but it was only Pokeballs.”

“Huh? You’re a mess. You could’ve been pulverized by their monsters, and you aren’t scared?”

He shrugged again.

“I guess. The guys at my school carry bats and knives. This side of town doesn’t seem as bad.”

Flint arrived in time to hear Gill’s casual confession. He and I exchanged shocked looks. The little kid went on.

“Pokemon aren’t so bad, not the trained ones. They’re conditioned to respect their master and other humans, so they hold back.”

“What is wrong with you?” I uttered.

“Um,” he actually gave the question some thought. “I guess I’m weak. It makes me an easy target. You guys seem strong. Can I hang out with you?”

“Sure,” Flint answered right away.

“My parents said I’ll be going to Kowitz Middle in a few weeks, so I was exploring the area. Do you guys go there?”

“Yeah, we do.”

“Ah, neat!”

“Hey, kid. I’m Flint Oba, what’s your name?”

“Gillian Yasashi. Nice to meet you.”

They shook hands.

Years onward, I’ll always remember that they shook hands first, even though I was the first to talk to Gill.

 

* * *

 

“He was someone I used to know,” I told Morty.

Morty responded the way he always does, keying in on tone of voice, knowing when he’s broken through and how to seize on openings.

“Tell me about him,” he asked, with just the right amount of concern and genuine interest in his voice. He’s so damn good at acting, it’s never easy to tell whether it was put on or if he actually cared. The worst of it was, sometimes he does care, and takes others seriously, and becomes serious himself. It’s rare, but it’s enough to foul up any automatic assumption that he’s always faking it. The only way to keep him honest is to throw him off-guard, come at him from a different angle.

“You know, you’re only my third real friend, ever,” I said.

It was true, but not that easy to admit.

“Flint, me, Gill,” he guessed.

“Wrong order. You’re the newest.” I shook my head. “It’s hard to make friends, gets even harder as we get older. It’s not something they taught in school. No one goes out of their way and says- ‘Hey dude, you’re kinda weird. I think that’s cool. Let’s be friends.’”

Morty smirked.

Those were his exact words when we first met.

“What the hell do you see in me, that makes you want to hang around and care so much about me? Why are you my friend?” I asked bluntly.

“You’re a chick magnet. I’m like a Remoraid, picking off the leftovers that cling to you.”

“Cut the crap. You’re always like that, trying to turn the mood around. I hate that about you. It was a serious question, give me a serious answer.”

He shrugged.

“Same reason anyone becomes friends. You’re fun to hang out with.” He saw my glare. “You want a deeper reason? Okay, fine. You’re a contrarian and a pessimist, a downer and a killjoy. And ever since I started hanging out with you, I noticed I don’t get into nearly as much trouble. I’m impulsive, idiotic, and have no self-awareness. You’re my anchor. You keep me in check, and my life’s been less fun, but way more stable, with you in it.” He leaned in. “See? Even your woe-is-me attitude can be a positive, if you’re willing to look at it the right way. So how’s this Gill fellow tie into the topic?”

I could almost laugh at Morty’s explanation. What a riot, a farce. Whatever.

“I hang off you because you seem like you know more about the world than me. You make doing anything look easy. You’re a leader, Morty.”

“No I’m not. Unless you all want to be led off a cliff.”

“Or jail.”

“Hey, we had fun, right? Right?”

“No, it wasn’t fun. But it’s a good example here. You’re the extrovert, the idea guy, the one who pushes others to do stuff, the guy who goes out of his way to make things happen, including friendships. I hate admitting this- and I do mean _hate_ \- but I look up to you.”

I grimaced.

“Who you are for me, I was for Gill. Except I fucking sucked at it.”


	3. A Shared Goal

It was pretty easy to see why Gill was bullied, beyond the obvious noodle-armed appearance issue. He was weird. He showed up to his first day of class in swim trunks. Kowitz Middle had a school uniform, but no one bothered to wear it and the adults gave up enforcement years ago. Still, there were expectations, and swim wear did _not_ meet them.

“Dork.” “Weirdo.” “Flipper.”

The muttered, behind-the-back disparagement wasn’t all that creative. We were sixth graders in a run-down, underfunded inner city school. Not really the brightest bunch.

Some asshole shoved Gill in the back. Another tried to trip him and got him to stumble into a locker. The kid lifted himself back to a stand, knees shaky, wide-eyes gawking through crooked glasses. A crowd of onlookers didn’t hold back their laughter. Idiots, all of them.

“Hey kids, knock it off.”

Eh, the lone exception, the one guy capable of pulling off “cool” and “smart” simultaneously in the whole school. Also my friend, for reasons that predate memory.

“Hi Flint!”

“Yo.”

Flint held out a fist, Gill didn’t know what to do with it.

“Here.”

Flint showed him how to bump fists. Gill got the hang of it, but looked painfully awkward in the process.

“Volkner!” He turned his attention to me, holding out a fist himself. _Overeager juvenile_ , I thought. My fist bump wasn’t all that enthusiastic, I admit.

“Why’re you in swim trunks?” I asked.

“It was the only clean thing I had. Our washer broke down and messed up my laundry.”

“How does that happen?” Flint wondered.

“A broken valve, I’m guessing. Dirty water got into the intake. I bet your house is old.”

“Ancient!” Gill replied, beaming. “You’re pretty smart, Volkner!”

I waved him off.

“I’m just a nerd.”

“The teacher said you were taking ninth grade science.”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“You must be really good at it!”

“I’m doing okay.” “ _Okay_ ” meant I had a hard time remembering the last time I scored below a 99 on a math or science test. I didn’t like to brag about it though, ‘cause Flint would just bring up my sub-70 writing scores.

“They also said you guys get into trouble a lot, but you don’t seem like bullies to me.”

“Nah, we _are_ bullies,” Flint corrected him. “We just pick on other bullies, that’s our M.O.”

“So you’re the good guys. Knew it.” He nodded to himself, as if he had solved a murder mystery.

“Don’t think we’re here to be your personal bodyguard or anything,” I grouched.

“Ah, no!” Gill looked embarrassed. “I just wanted to hang out with you two and be your friend.”

Who the heck just unilaterally declares a friendship like that?

Like I said, Gill was weird.

We made it through school, not without having to scare off another few packs of bullies trying to pick on the new kid.

“We’re going to go have Pokemon battles, wanna join us?” Flint asked. Gill didn’t say anything, his mile-wide eyes and smile were answer enough. By the time we reached the usual battle grounds, he was tripping over himself with excitement.

“Magby, c’mon! Ember the crap outa him!”

“Elekid, Thunder Wave. Back Magby up.”

Like usual, Flint and me fought in double battles. Individually, we were pretty good for our age. Together, we could beat high schoolers. Magby was a tank that barreled in to create openings for Elekid’s quick Electric strikes. Today, it was more-or-less working; we’ve won six out of ten battles so far.

“Sandshrew, Defense Curl! In front, protect Starly!”

The Pokemon leapt up front and center, trying to land blows. MAgby and Elekid took turns blocking and striking out. The Sandshrew could’ve been dangerous, but its only Ground attack was Dig, which was easy to predict and dodge. They didn’t have a good counter for our combo- Starly wanted to Quick Attack in fast and knock out Magby, but couldn’t avoid Elekid’s covering fire with Thunder Shock.

Gill watched from the sideline.

“Yeah!”

He celebrated, seeing Magby purposefully take a Dig to land a Fire Punch on the Sandshrew. The two Pokemon knocked each other out, leaving only Starly and Elekid. The battle was basically over after that.

“Darn it!” The opposing fifth graders belted out a string of T-rated curses. I went over to collect our bet, Flint joined a euphoric Gill.

“You were so cool! I wish I could have Pokemon!”

Flint exchanged a glance with me.

“Really now,” he said, grinning and shifty-eyed.

“Huh?”

“What do you think, Volkner?”

“I could try.”

“Try my butt. The old man listens to you.”

“Fine, fine.”

I shook my head, exasperated.

“What?” Gill still looked stumped.

“Do you really want to be a trainer?” I asked.

“Well, um, yeah.”

“It’s a lot of work.”

“I’ll do it!”

“Why do you want a Pokemon?”

He paused. Did he even know why? Was it just because it looked cool and he’s impulsive? Nah- looking at him, he’s got something to say, but is too embarrassed.

“What? Spit it out,” I commanded.

“Come on, you can tell us,” Flint urged.

“It’s because… you two are trainers, and you and your Pokemon saved me. So, I guess, you two are my heroes. I want to be just like you.”

I choked, Flint laughed.

“That’s not a bad reason!” Flint yelled in between gut bursts.

“So, um, can you guys get me a Pokemon? I don’t know how to go about it.”

“Yeah, yeah. There’s some paperwork, and then I have to convince Boss.”

Like _that_ was going to be fun.

 

* * *

 

“Show me what you’ve got!”

Gill, Flint, and I lined up, our Pokemon before us.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this, you’d better not disappoint!”

Professor Spruce had his three monsters arrayed before him, ready for battle: Luxray, Lucario, and Abomasnow. They were some of his best. He wasn’t going easy on us. We looked to each other and our Pokemon, and nodded.

“Flareon, Smokescreen*!”

“Jolteon, Discharge!”

“Vaporeon, Wish!”

Three Eevee for three bright-eyed middle-schoolers, that’s what we were given two years ago. The fact that we had evolved them into the traditional Fire/Electric/Water trio was deliberate- it was supposed to make us look “cool”. The Pokemon had come with a catch, though: return two years later and battle the professor/ex-Sinnoh Champion. If we win, we keep the Eeveelutions. Lose, and we’d have to return them.

I didn’t want to lose.

Flint didn’t want to lose.

But Gill… Vaporeon was his first and only Pokemon. He was definitely NOT going to lose.

“Scald!”

The searing jet of mist mixed in with the Smokescreen, making it impossible to tell what patch of roiling cloud was Fire and what was Water. Abomasnow and Lucario pulled back out of caution, Luxray was the one to step up and challenge us.

“Get ready Flint,” I warned.

“Blackout, Ice Beam! Luckdash, Aura Sphere!”

“Inc, 15 and 340.”

My Jolteon was the only Pokemon inside the cloud. He heard my instructions and easily dodged the random fire pouring into the Smokescreen.

“They’re not going to take the bait!” Gill said.

“I know, I know!”

Right side, we need to attack the right side. Abomasnow was the strongest Pokemon on Spruce’s lineup, but it was also the one we could knock out easiest- quad-weakness to Flareon’s Flare Blitz and all. The problem was getting past its two team mates.

“Luckdash, Vacuum Wave anything that emerges from that cloud. Stormy, go around the side, find that Vaporeon and crush it.”

“Jolteon, intercept! Left!”

Well, I assumed Luxray was coming from the left, that’s where it started the battle. I was wrong.

The Luxray came dashing around the right side of the Smokescreen and made a beeline for Vaporeon. Its jaws were filled with lightning and ready to snap the Water-type in half.

“Quick Attack!”

Gill jumped, first in fear, then in joy. Flareon burst out of nowhere to make a flying tackle into Luxray’s side. The two Pokemon fell into a whirling ball of close-quarters violence, removing any hope of giving either one commands. As far as I could tell, Flareon was using its footwork to out-maneuver the faster-but-less-agile Luxray. Flint patted Gill on the back.

“Luckdash, go help Stormy out.”

“Smokescreen!” Gill hastily ordered. Vaporeon supplied a second, whitish veil to enshroud the two combatants. If we couldn’t see them, neither could Lucario.

I glanced at Flint. He nodded.

“Hey Brickhead! Bite!” Flint yelled out.

Professor Spruce craned his neck over, trying to get a better view of the battle.

“Where’s the Jolteon? Coming to attack Abomasnow any moment, I wager.”

Just as predicted, a shadow burst out of the cloud, gunning straight for the Christmas tree.

“Blizzard! Teach it a lesson!”

Abomasnow howled and let out a flurry of bitter, cold air. It swept right over the attacking Pokemon, engulfing it.

“Got it! And you thought you could frontal assault a beast like mine?! Pah!”

Premature, you old fart.

“Flare Blitz!”

“Wha-?!”

A white-hot meteor burst through the cold front, slamming directly into Abomasnow.

There were 17 years and 1900 battles worth of experience separating Flareon and Abomasnow, but that really made no difference in the face of the overwhelming type advantage. The tree was fried to a crisp and fainted instantly.

“What in damnation- who’s fighting Stormy?”

A pair of figures tumbled sideways out of the Smokescreen, still going at each other’s throats. It was Jolteon and Luxray fighting in vicious close-quarters-combat.

“Brickhead” was the nickname Flint gave my Jolteon, ‘cause he has the nerve to say my Pokemon is “dumb as a bag of bricks”. On his order, Jolteon tagged into Flareon and Luxray’s brawl, freeing the Fire-type for a surprise charge.

“You’re down to two old man!”

“Two’s plenty!” Spruce retorted.

Flareon had done nearly as much damage to itself as it had to Abomasnow. It looked pretty beat up, and that was _before_ Lucario grabbed it by the tail and slammed it into the ground.

“K.O.” Spruce announced.

“Even numbers again,” I mumbled.

“And we’re outmatched,” Flint said grumpily.

“But we can’t give up,” Gill added the obvious. “Vaporeon, can you hear me?”

His Pokemon had been darting around, trying to keep behind Luxray. It wouldn’t take much more than a quick Wild Charge or Thunderbolt to knock the Water-type out. Jolteon was doing all he could to keep Luxray’s attention, but having to look out for Vaporeon and himself was hampering his offensive efforts.

“ _Virrapirra!_ ” Vaporeon called out to his trainer.

“Smokescreen!”

A billow of white fog engulfed the combatants once again.

“You keep asking that Vaporeon for a Smokescreen, but I never saw one of its kind that could blow smoke.” The professor grinned. “It’s really a Haze or Mist, isn’t it?! Ha! Stormy, Discharge!”

Gill flinched. His misdirection had failed.

The difference between a Smokescreen and a Haze is minimal, they both obstruct eyesight and effect an opponent’s status. However, the former does not conduct electricity, the latter… well, it’s made of water vapor.

The pale cloud flashed like a storm cloud. The fog dissipated shortly after.

Jolteon crouched in front of its brethren, growling at the opponent. He had Volt Absorb, the attack had actually healed him. Yet, because of the cloud, he couldn’t block the omni-directional Discharge for Vaporeon. The Water-type was laying down and shaking.

“Get up!”

“Luckdash, Stormy, one-two!”

“Jolt, Thunder Cage!”

Jolteon leapt into the air, twirling as he flew up. He emitted a Thunderbolt, encircling Vaporeon in a wall of electricity. The flare of sparks were furious enough to cause both attackers to halt in their tracks. The Lucario recovered quicker, deciding to hurl a pair of Aura Spheres at my Jolteon as he landed. Jolteon dodged both, fired off a barrage of Pin Missiles to distract Luxray, and bounded away. The opponent’s Pokemon weren’t sure what to do. Chase the healthy Pokemon, or wait for the Thunder Cage to dissipate and finish the weakened Pokemon?

“Don’t let them breathe! After it! Luckdash, Extreme Speed!”

Lucario ignited into a blur of pure speed.

“Double Team! Thunder Wave!...”

I belted out commands, drawing on every trick and trump in Jolteon’s arsenal to extend his survival. Gill called out desperately to Vaporeon.

“Vaporeon! _Get. Up!_ ”

The creature opened his eyes, then closed them in pain.

“I know you’re hurting, but all that pain is caused by that old man over there, and if you don’t get up, you’re going to be taken by him and he’ll be your master!”

The fins of Vaporeons’ ears twitched, but his head was still bowed.

“We’ve been through a lot together, but it won’t mean anything if you can’t get up! Remember the waterfall party? And the summer beach trip? And Mt. Coronet? Those were awesome! I’m glad I had those experiences with you! But guess what? I’m not done! I want to keep growing, and getting stronger, and I want you by my side when I walk through Pokemon League’s doors and challenge the Elite Four! And I know you want to be there too, but that only happens, if you get up right now and _fight_!”

I don’t believe in willpower or miracles. There’s a rational explanation for everything, a logical fate predetermined by laws of motion and the geometries of atoms smashing against one another. It’s hard to find beauty in any of it, knowing there’s no mystery, just mechanical function. But I’m still just a human, a teenager at that, with involuntary emotions, and at that moment my heart leapt in disbelief and joy.

Vaporeon never struggled. He went directly from splayed out in pain to a full-speed dash in a single, effortless motion.

Lucario’s Low Kick knocked Jolteon up in the air. Luxray’s Take Down sent him hurling across the field. My Pokemon was hurting and on his last sliver of stamina.

“Vaporeon, Wish! Then Hydro Pump! Then defend! You know how!”

Vaporeon sprung to a stop beside Jolteon for a moment, glowed, and then charged off once more.

“Stormy, left, Luckdash, center! Focus Blast, overwhelm!” Professor Spruce shouted, voice pitching to max.

The Lucario brought its palms together.

Gill smiled and turned to me.

“It’s all up to you, Volkner.”

I didn’t comprehend.

Luxray arced around wide. Lucario sent the focused ball of natural energy forward. It was a cannon-shot, aimed directly for Vaporeon. No chance to dodge. Vaporeon’s only hope was to meet it head-on with its own attack. The Hydro Pump blasted forward. The two attacks met and erupted in an enormous geyser of water and power- which then parted.

A second Focus Blast screamed towards Vaporeon.

Gill let out an ecstatic yell.

The sphere of power struck Vaporeon.

It didn’t explode.

It _bounced_.

‘Defend’: How many times have I heard Gill use that simple command? It never meant the same thing. It wasn’t a command. It was a suggestion, a request.

_Use whatever defensive move you think best, and I’ll trust you to make the right decision._ – That’s what he meant. In this case, it meant Mirror Coat.

Vaporeon still absorbed the brunt of the impact, flying backwards and probably knocked out, and if not, then the Discharge from the flanking Luxray definitely finished him off. Yet, in fainting, he had sent the Focus Blast back at Lucario with double force. The energy actually went straight through Lucario, smacking into the far wall and exploding. Lucario’s flying body followed, disappearing into the wall of shockwaves.

“Eh? ACK! Luckdash! How the heck… you damn runt!” Spruce was not above cursing at teenagers, especially not when his prized fighter is K.O.’d by a lesser Pokemon.

“Hey Professor! I watched your championship game a dozen times! Lucario always fired off two Focus Blasts when it went for a finishing blow! I predicted you! Ha!” Gill was pumping both fists and beaming. I’ve never seen him this happy.

What a weird, incredible, weirdly incredible guy.

“I’ve still won this match! Thanks for training such a great Vaporeon for me, I’ll thank you someday!”

“It’s not over,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Jolteon, Thunderbolt.”

“Oh, is that pincushion still up? Stormy, crush it. Crunch!”

Luxray shrugged off the first bolt of electricity and kept charging.

“Thunderbolt!”

It shrugged off the second one too and jumped on Jolteon. Jolteon dodged out of the way with a Quick Attack.

“Thunderbolt!”

The third lightning strike drew a flinch from the feline beast. It whirled around and pranced into close range again. This time Jolteon couldn’t dodge, Luxray’s movements were too aggressive and unpredictable. The foe’s jaws locked down and exacted damage on Jolteon’s back.

“Thunderbolt!”

This point blank Electric attack smacked Luxray in the face, causing it to let go of its prey.

“Roar and Crunch!” Spruce ordered.

Jolteon was blown back and disoriented by the Roar. Luxray pounced and caught him by the leg with a second Crunch, and then flung him to the ground.

“Why isn’t it down yet? Quick Attack, and Crunch!”

“Thanks for that Wish, Gill,” I said. “Jolteon, Thunderbolt and vault!”

Jolteon leapt directly at the oncoming Luxray, firing his Thunderbolt in midair. This one blinded Luxray. The former continued its jump, aiming for the foe’s back. The latter snarled and lunged, catching Jolteon on the thigh, drawing blood. Jolteon sprung over Luxray and away. I could see him limping when he landed.

“Thunderbolt!”

Jolteon zapped Luxray once more.

“Take Down!” Spruce shouted.

Luxray reeled about, disoriented. It steadied itself, focused on its prey, and crouched.

“Thunderbolt!”

Jolteon tried to fire off a bolt, but at the last moment his haunch gave out and the beam went awry. Luxray used a Discharge to launch itself high into the air, coming down with full force.

“THUNDERBOLT!” I, Gill, and Flint shouted in unison.

Jolteon struggled to a stand, cried out, and lit up.

Stormy the Luxray was knocked clean out of the air. It landed hard, sliding into Jolteon and bowling him over. Both Pokemon collapsed.

We stared at the battlefield and the myriad of fainted Pokemon littering it. A glance to my two buddies, and it was clear we all had the same question- who won?

Professor Spruce walked out onto the field.

He had been a pretty fierce-looking guy when he was younger. Nowadays he looked gruff, drawn-out, white-haired, and had a pretty noticeable bent in his posture. For all that, he still had the fire of a former competitor in his eyes. It’s worth noting that, as a professor, his area of research is inter-Pokemon predation and violence. Not a guy to take lightly, not even in old age.

He took a separate look at each of the six Pokemon. Among them, only Jolteon was doing anything more than breathing, and even he was on his side and squirming in agony.

“Uh, so, verdict?” Flint asked tentatively.

“By League rules, none of these Pokemon would be considered fit for battle. Technically, it’s a draw,” Spruce said. He shrugged. “But considering my Pokes were thirty levels over yours, I’ll give you the win. Bah, you only got this far because you had three different heads, I couldn’t keep up in a triple battle.”

He let out a “ _humph!_ ”, recalled his fainted fighters, and turned to leave.

“Oh, is that how it is!” Flint yelled out. “You damn old fart, you were never going to take our Pokemon, win or lose!”

“I’ll take them back yet, brat!” Spruce shouted back over his shoulder. “Enjoy your fluke! Meet me in another two years!”

“If you’re still alive!”

“Bah!”

We looked to each other, smiled, and then ran to our fainted, but victorious, Pokemon. A small crowd of spectators began cheering. The gym burst into celebration.

 

* * *

 

Gill had Vaporeon draped across his lap. He was slowly massaging the Pokemon’s back, trying to ease the massive bruise where the Focus Blast had struck. Flint and I were feeding Flareon and Jolteon recovery berries.

“Hehe. That was fun,” Flint said in glee.

“I think Spruce was holding back. He didn’t have any coordinated strategy for his Pokemon.”

“Nah, I think he’s just getting rusty. His Pokemon are old too. We’ll be like that in fifty years.”

Maybe it’s a sign of respect that we were inventing excuses for the old bastard, but then again, it would be beyond pretentious to think a bunch of teenagers had actually beaten a former regional champion fair and square.

“Well,” Gill said, “Professor Spruce accomplished a lot in those fifty years.”

“He got his ass kicked in the World Championship, for one,” Flint mocked.

“He made it into the World Championship,” I retorted.

There’s fifty million professional Pokemon trainers in the world. Only sixty-four make it to the final tournament. Spruce made it that far once.

“That’d be cool,” Gill said. “To get that high. To meet strong trainers, and have epic battles.”

“Dreamy-face,” Flint said, poking his friend in the cheek. Gill took the teasing benignly.

“No, really, what are we going to do?”

Gill was looking down at his Vaporeon, stroking him with fondness and care.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, we’ve come this far and gotten sort of decent at Pokemon battles, even though it’s just a fun past time for us. Are we going to keep on this way? I mean, we’re about to enter high school.”

“Yeah, and?”

I stayed silent, already seeing where Gill’s logic was heading.

“Well, in high school, they start making you pick classes and education tracks, to get you ready for the real world. Like, whether we end up in college, or a vocational school, or the civil service.”

“I was kind of thinking military,” Flint said, while messing with his afro. The army would make him shave that all off.

“No, I mean…” Gill paused a moment. “I mean, if we want to be serious, and do something more with our battling hobby, we should start right now.”

“Huh? You want to be a pro trainer?”

Gill nodded.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea for a shy guy like you,” I said.

“Well, it’ll be hard, that’s true. But, I want to see if it’ll be too hard, or if I can overcome it… if I can succeed. Because, if I can do it, everything I’ve experienced so far, with you guys and with Vaporeon, makes me feel it’ll be worth it.”

“You’ll never make it,” I said.

“Ah, sour grapes gone be sour. You do what you want, Gill, don’t let Volks stop you.”

“Mm.”

Flint gave him a fist bump to the chest. Gill nodded in appreciation.

“You’ll definitely never make it without help. You’re too weak.” I sighed. “I’ll help.”

“You will?”

“Because I can tell from that shitty grin on his face, Flint’s going to help you too. And I’m not about to be left out in the cold. Fine. Let’s be pro-trainers.”

“Hahaha, even Volksy the braniac is joining up. Hell ya! World Champions! Let’s do it!”

I knuckled him.

“That’s impossible. Way beyond us.”

“You never know unless we try!”

“World Champs are prodigies. We’re just a bunch of above average dunces. And besides, there’s only one world champ, and three of us. Even if we won it consecutively, they only hold the tourney once every four years. It’d take twelve years for all of us.”

“God, Volks, why do you have to be such a bottom-glasser?”

“Sinnoh Champions.”

Gill looked up.

We stared at him.

“That’s our aim. Like Professor Spruce.”

“The Sinnoh League, huh.”

“It’ll be a lot of work.”

“Gotta beat the Gym Leaders, then the Elite Four, or the tournament, then a title match with the defending champion… doesn’t sound like too much work,” Flint mused.

“You’re forgetting the thousands of hours of training, and all the other champion-wannabes getting in our way.”

“We can do it,” Gill insisted. “If we work harder than anyone else.”

I rolled my eyes.

They were pushing me into an engineering track for high school. They said any other career would be a waste of my god-given left-brained talents. But “they” were also a pair of squabbling, overbearing pieces of shit who never amounted to anything in their own lives, hated each other, and made my household an everlasting embarrassment.

I could use a distraction.

“Brains, brawns, heart,” I said, “We’re pretty well balanced. I guess we can do it.”

“Of course we can,” Flint asserted.

Gill nodded.

Without another word of discussion, we smirked, lent our hands to the center, and swore on it.

“Champs!” we called in unison, then broke into laughter.

“Yo, look at that.”

Some of the crowd had stuck around and watched us from a distance. It was all girls, and they started giggling when we completed our vow.

“That’s your fan club, Flint.”

“Not all, not all, I think I see one with eyes for you, Volks.”

“Oh come on.”

“Hmm.” Gill ignored the girls, focusing in turns on me, Flint, and Vaporeon. He had a content smile on face- what exactly for, only he knew. Vaporeon finally stirred to waking, causing Flareon and Jolteon to yip in excitement.


	4. The Problem Child

“This is unacceptable! I bet it’s that damn Pokemon Gym you’re going to all the time! I don’t want to see you going there anymore!”

“Like hell,” I replied.

“Don’t back-talk me! I am your mother!”

“I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going? Get back here!”

“Flint’s place.”

“You’re going to that jock’s house again? I bet that pervert will be there too.”

“He’s not even remotely perverted.”

“You stay put! You’ve got studying to do! Do you hear me? Are you listening? Get the fuck back here!”

I waved her off.

“You are the first Denzi to ever have a shot at making something of himself, I am not going to allow you to waste it so you can fuck around with Pokemon and indigents! Volkner!”

“Fuck off.”

“You goddamned child, get the fuck back here!”

 

* * *

 

“That bitch,” I muttered.

Gill gave me a pained expression.

“What?” I asked.

“Why do you cuss so much, Volkner?”

“I don’t cuss that much.”

“Yes you do, all the time. I know you think people can’t hear you because they’re not paying attention, but they are, and they do.”

“Don’t rail on me for being a potty mouth. I don’t need another mother.”

“No,” Gill shook his head, “I don’t want to be judging you for it. I just think it’s a symptom of something wrong in your life. Can you tell me what’s bothering you?”

“It’s nothing,” I said.

Gill’s look collapsed into disappointment.

“It’s not like I’m the kind of guy who would judge you or spread rumors. I wish you could trust me.”

“No, you’re not that kind of guy,” I had to admit. “Hey, hand over the power-drill.” A pause. “Please,” I added. He did.

The whir of the drill started up. It took only a minute to get the screws in place. The finished product was a fully assembled motor engine case. Gill, Flint, and I were doing after-school work for shop class, the project being automobile repair. Other teens got the easy stuff, like oil filter changes and bodywork. Mr. Cameron took one look at our in-class work and assigned us the freaking engine.

“Flint’s not back yet,” Gill noted. He’d gone out to the store to grab some sealant we needed. Until he got back, our job was put on hold.

“Probably stopped to chat with a girl.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Gill insisted.

“Let’s go raid his fridge.”

His parents weren’t home, which was pretty typical. They both worked closing shifts. Well, opening shifts too. That was pretty typical for Veilstone. Only his younger brother and sister were home, and they were cooped up in their room playing video games.

“I don’t think we should take food without permission.”

“He lets us eat all the time,” I argued.

“Still, that’s when he’s around,” Gill said.

I shrugged and conceded. Instead, I got out glasses and filled them with tap water. We sat at the table. I took a sip, swished, and gulped the cold water down. Gill was staring absently at me. Thinking about my profanity, I bet, and whatever he imagined induced it.

I think back on it, and now that I do, Gill’s kind of conceited. Oh he acts shy and timid all the time, and his blithe indifference to injury and insult sometimes makes him look stupid and naïve, but under all that, he’s shrewd, and insightful, and he likes digging into other people’s business. It reminds me of Alice. Except, unlike her, Gill never has that air of manipulation about him. I don’t know if it’s anything specific, but it feels like he genuinely cares. Maybe it’s  just the incessant assurances, as if, if he repeated the claim enough times, even the most anti-social cynic would think of him as a true friend.

Which leads me to ask- what kind of guy is so desperate for friendship he’d go to such lengths? And why?

Well, there’s that… whatever.

I leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

“I cuss a lot because it’s tolerated in my house- and there’s a lot of reason to cuss in there,” I admitted out loud.

“Oh.” Gill seemed surprised I’d be willing to open up about this.

“It’s just-” I grasped my fist. “I don’t hate them, and they don’t really jerk me around too much. All they want is for me to be successful. It’s… they’re at each other’s throats so much, there’s a lot of feuding, and it spills over onto the rest of us.”

“You and...?”

“My older sisters.”

“Oh.” Gill blinked. “You have older sisters?”

Ah, figures. He’s never met them.

“From my mother’s previous husband. They’re six and eight years older than me. They’ve been visiting more often. Mom needs the company to keep her sane.”

“What happened between your parents?”

“I’m not at liberty to share.”

“Oh. I see. But, if it’s affecting them so badly, and you and your siblings, isn’t there someone you could call for help? Um, a marriage counselor, for instance?”

I shook my head.

“Wouldn’t help.”

“Oh. I see.” He paused a bit, taking it in, biting his lip. He gulped and spoke up. “The police?.”

“No!” I face-palmed. “God, you go off the deep end with your imagination sometimes, Gill. It’s not a criminal thing.”

“Ah! I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I wish I could help, I really want to, but if it’s above my ability, then I wish someone who _can_ help would get involved.”

“Why?”

“To help you.”

“Help me what?” I snapped.

“Become happy,” Gill said plainly.

“… fuck, Gill, really?”

“Well, you sacrifice a lot, and you’re good to so many people, and really useful, with all your technology expertise and science smarts you lend to anybody, but they all treat you so poorly. I think you deserve to happy. I don’t know how to make it happen, though.”

“I deserve to be happy?” I snorted. “Gill, listen, no one in this world deserves anything. Period. It’s just the happenstance of molecules colliding, pure luck, whether anyone gets anything positive. Just, cope with what you have. Got it?”

“Why? Why not try to make a difference for yourself?”

“It’s impossible.”

“It may seem that way, but it’s really not. Look at me- I was bullied all through elementary and middle school, but now they leave me alone, mostly, because I made the effort to be friends with everyone.”

“No one actually thinks of you as a friend. They just tolerate you because they’re afraid of me and Flint.”

Gill went silent.

That must have hurt.

I was breathing hard. Heart was beating. Chest was sinking, blood getting slightly colder, just enough to notice. That familiar surge of uneasiness, like I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going in life, crept back in.

“Do you think of me as your friend?” Gill asked.

“Sure,” I answered.

“Really? Do you?”

“Yes,” I said, more firmly.

“Oh. Okay.”

What’s he thinking? Something painful, by the looks of it.

He’s pitiful.

“My dad cheated. My mother cheated in revenge.”

Gill glanced up, surprised.

“My family is messed up.”

The fact that I could share this information so casually was a little shocking to him, apparently. He gawked and did not reply. Gill doesn’t understand how damn disarming and empathetic he can get, when he’s acting all sincere and like.

“There were just little personality clashes that snowballed, I think. He has anger issues and thinks the world has to behave a certain way, and that society owes him something for living by the moral code he invented. Mother didn’t give him the respect he thought he deserved, so he went and found a woman who would. Mother’s used to men screwing her, and she’s taken it to heart. Feels like she has to yank them around and manipulate their emotions to get them to do anything nice for her. In the end, they’re both just selfish, entitled asses who couldn’t put someone else’s interests ahead of their own. It’s a wonder they’ve made it this long together. I think they’re getting divorced.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, I will.” I raised an eyebrow. He went on. “Because it’s hurting you. I don’t want to stand by and do nothing if my friends are in trouble. If there’s something I can do, I want to try to help.”

“Stop. I mean it. Worry about yourself, your home is worse.”

“Well…” his voice drifted off.

“Hey Gill, I know it’s tempting to play the hero and vacate all your stress by throwing yourself at someone else’s problems. But that’s tauros-shit and won’t work. You don’t justify ignoring your own problems by saying you’re too busy saving someone else. That’s a damn excuse.”

“It’s not…”

“And don’t assume it’s easier to fix my household just because you’re an outsider. Being objective doesn’t make you capable of changing anything. And don’t you dare call some counselor or whoever. I’ll deal with my parents, you deal with yours.”

“Yeah.” That wasn’t agreement, just acknowledgment.

“Is your mother still drinking?”

“Still,” he answered.

The conversation ended. Silence wrapped around us like a curtain of Nightshade, casting everything in _wrongness_. I got up and went back to the garage to double-check our work. When Flint returned ten minutes later he found two quiet teenagers in awkward antipathy, not speaking to one another, not looking at one another.

“What’s up with you two?”

“I’m going home.

“Hey, I just got back!” Flint protested. I was already up and walking. Flint caught up and caught me by the wrist. “What’s going on?”

I jerked a head over in Gill’s direction.

“Do you got a problem with Gill?” Flint demanded.

“No, I’ve got a problem with my folks, and Gill’s too damn keen on picking out my insecurities, so I’m leaving.”

For that answer I got a slug in the stomach. I wretched over in pain.

I tottered about, regained my footing, and looked up. Flint was looking pretty fiercely at me. I stared on, no anger in me to fight back.

“Yeah, that’s the look. You never hit back. That always annoyed the hell out of me. Tells me you don’t care. You’re just wrapped up in your own misery. Let me guess, you told off on Gill because he was prying?”

I nodded.

“And you told him not to waste time on other people’s problems when he’s got his own parents to deal with?”

Another nod. Another slug in the stomach for me. Not as hard though.

“That’s still better than your selfish crap, acting like your pain gives you the right to ignore other’s pain. Especially the pain you’ve caused them.”

“I didn’t cause anybody pain. I don’t live like that.”

I expected a third hit and braced for it. Lucky, because this one was serious. I was thrown back two entire steps by the force of it. My belly was throbbing in pain, practically vibrating.

“He cares about you! You hurt yourself, you hurt him too. Same goes for me. We’re friends. Nakama. Get a grip.”

“I’m going,” I uttered between heaves.

“Sure, get lost. See you in class.”

I paused at the street and turned back. Gill was standing in the middle of the garage. Looks like he’s about to cry. Flint was sprinting up to him and trying to reassure him. I slowly took one step back towards them, and another, and another, and on, until I was at the garage entrance.

“Hey, Flint. Gill.”

The former flashed me a glare, the latter a blank stare.

“I’m sorry.”

I backed off and departed.

 

* * *

 

Morty was calmer now, taking all my rambling in without a flicker of emotion. I told him all about- well, everything. Every last detail of my life. Even the nasty stuff, the things I’d never shared with anyone:

Fighting with my father, real fights, bloody fists and police calls. The nasty, disgusting names I called my mother behind her back. The fury I felt when they blamed me for their divorce, as if I had caused the wedge between them by being a spoiled child, a renegade child that never lived up to his potential and never made them proud. The resentment they bore towards me because I was the last link chaining them to one another. The emotional beating I took as they desperately tried to severe that link.

My strange friendship with Gill. How I started to suspect how one-sided this friendship was. The rare times I cursed at myself at how pathetically little I cared about reciprocating his feelings. The more common feeling of just not giving a damn. The times I resented having such unconditional affection- it wasn’t something I was prepared to return. How Gill’s admiration could turn into straight-up adulation, and how it tore me up because of the expectations it created, expectations I wasn’t prepared to live up to.

Flint, and our ancient friendship, and how we slowly grew apart. Maybe it was because I took him for granted. Maybe it was because Gill’s eternal optimism and patience won him over. Maybe I just wanted to be alone more often than not. They started spending more time together, without me. Our trio had been as tight as a Magneton in our freshman year, by our junior, it was more of a Porygon Z.

The cold, indifferent relationship I had with everyone else in my high school, friendships motivated by respect, but mostly respect derived from mutual parts disdain and fear. No one really liked me, they just deferred to me because of the dangers of getting on my bad side: the dozen or so jocks that relied on my tutoring to get through science class, the possibility of alienating the truly popular guy Flint, and the surefire knowledge that I could kick their asses in a Pokemon battle. When they talked to me and everyone was nice and behaved, it wasn’t out of kindness, but politeness, civic duty and whatnot.

Everyone seemed so… distant. Unrelatable. Blots of nuisance, blobs of organic cells that I never really saw as self-motivated sentient beings, and never believed they saw me as the same either.

It was like that even for my girlfriend, Alice.

“You had a girlfriend?” Morty intervened at last.

“Yeah, but it didn’t last.”

“Why not?”

I started to answer, but caught myself.

“It’s, well… that’s all part of what happened senior year. When all our problems went nuclear.”


	5. Zero Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains graphic and disturbing scenes. Please read with caution.

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked.

“Probably hanging out with the guys.”

“Again?” She did that thing, the mouth slightly parted, eyes-glaring-from-under-brow thing, that signaled her exasperation and disdain for my answer.

“You have a problem with that?”

“You should be studying. Your grades have slacked off.”

“You’re calling an 85 slacking off.”

“You’re a 95, if you applied yourself.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“Fuck, Volkner, I’m not your old bitch. Get your act together.”

“Now you really sound like her.”

She replied with a huff and shake of the head.

I can’t really think of a more typical woman. Dyed blonde hair, thin eyebrows, green eyes, can’t tell what her face really looks like under all the makeup. Medium height, average build, just a tiny bit of pudge around the hips, freckles on her neck that continued down across her boobs (and I would know). Hobbies: travel, dating, television, studying, fashion, shopping. A smart head, but one mostly dedicated to the passion of getting herself ahead in life. I take her constant nagging towards my studies and work as a future investment. In my opinion- incredibly selfish.

Why do I put up with her?

It’s simple. A guy doesn’t say “No” to a girl offering herself.

“I’ll study at Flint’s place.”

“Right. Sure you will.”

“You can come too.”

She shot that suggestion down with a glare.

“Why not?” I asked.

“You know why.”

“Sorry. Can’t think of a reason.” I was playing dumb. Feeling just a little provocative tonight.

“Because he’ll be there, dumbass.”

“What’s your biff with Gill?”

“He’s weird!” she spat out.

“He is not weird. He’s harmless, and he’s my friend.”

“You don’t even like him,” she countered.

“That’s not true.” A rebuttal without much conviction. Alice was as good as any girl on picking up cues and sifting through interpersonal relationships. She’d seen through my reluctance towards the dark-haired boy long ago. “It doesn’t matter. He and Flint are good friends, Flint and I are best friends, and as far as I’m concerned, that makes me and Gill friends. You have something against Flint?”

“No,” she admitted. Of course not. Flint was the most popular guy in school. He was good in sports, good in Pokemon battles, had good enough grades and was all-around likable, optimistic, and earnest. Alice’s bestie Heather had a deep crush on the guy. Hating Flint could get you ostracized. Accepting Flint’s weird friend was something everyone, including Alice, just had to put up with.

“I’m going then. You’re welcome to follow.”

She slid over and gave me a quick peck on the lips. A “don’t forget who you belong to” gesture.

“I wish you and Flint didn’t pick that guy up for your boy band. He’s weird. He doesn’t fit in with you two. There are rumors about him.”

“What kind of rumors?”

She brushed away, making to leave.

“What kind of rumors?” I repeated. She shrugged me off.

“See you tomorrow.”

 

 

* * *

 

“Come on come on come on!”

Cheers and chanting rang through the gymnasium. Sound vibrated like shockwaves. Even the Chimchar mascot was doing backflips.

Twenty seconds on the shot clock. Fifteen. Ten.

Flint flicked the ball to a teammate. He was instantly swamped by three defenders, and passed it back to Flint.

Five seconds left.

Flint cut left, juked a defender, and drove for a tight layup. The ball bounced around the rim twice before falling into the basket. The shot-clock hung at 0.3 seconds.

The crowd burst into a crazed roar. Teammates briefly pulverized Flint before returning to their positions. Seacrest got one last chance, but with only six seconds left, it was just a desperate midcourt heave that didn’t even hit the board. Final score: Veilstone Premier Comets: 84, Seacrest Torpedoes: 82.

“Flint! Flint! Flint! Flint! Flint! Flint!”

They were yelling his name in unison. He’s officially a hero now. He just single-handedly pushed the Comets to a regional playoff spot, our first in over a decade.

The local news reporter showed up and started quizzing him. The usual questions were dispensed with- “What does this win mean for you and your team?” and “What does it feel like to make the playoffs?” and yada yada. But one in particular was interesting.

“You’ve had a spectacular performance this season; have you gotten any offers from colleges? Or Junior Leagues even?”

“Heh, yeah, there’s been some,” Flint answered candidly.

“So is there a school you’re leaning towards?”

“Well, actually, I’m not going on. I mean, I want to do the best for my teammates and win them a championship, and I want to win for me, ‘cause, ultimately, I want to end my b-ball career with a win.”

“I’m sorry? Your career is ending? You haven’t even started!”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Whoo. I’m exhausted. I meant, I made a promise a long time ago, and decided I’m going to become a professional Pokemon trainer.”

“Oh wow! But won’t you regret it if you don’t make it? There’s scouts here saying you’re a sure-fire top prospect for college and beyond. That’s a lot of potential out there. Pokemon Battling is not as guaranteed.”

“Well, I made a promise, and as much as I love my teammates, I owe a hell of a lot to my friends and my Pokemon- they’ve been with me my entire life, and I’m going to put my all and go all the way with them.”

“That sounds noble! Alright! Well we wish you the best of luck in the tournament, and in your battling career too!”

Flint went off to the locker room to celebrate with his teammates.

He’s always been good on the court.

My sport was baseball, but I was average for a high school kid. College, maybe I could get a walk-on spot at some mid-major. Not a scholarship. Going pro was way beyond me, and I wasn’t interested anyways. Besides, if Alice and mother had their way, I was headed to Sinnoh Polytech in Sunyshore. Why make eight digits playing sports when I could design the next moon lander? Heh.

I caught up to Flint after the game. He was surrounded by his usual posy of girls and danglers. He made his way across the parking lot, heading for one lone figure standing at the far end. The group visibly shrank back when they saw who he was meeting. I jogged up to both of them.

“Gill!”

“Congratulations! You were incredible!”

“Hell yeah! That was fun!”

“I’ve done some scouting on your first playoff opponent.”

“Oh? Thanks a lot! Hey, but I’m tired, could we go over it later? I know, you come to next week’s Thursday practice, that’s when we start doing game installment.”

“Oh… um… Flint.”

“What?”

Gill was deflating.

“I don’t think I’m welcome at the practices.”

“The fuck? Of course you are.”

“But your teammates… and coaches… they don’t like me.”

“The hell with that. If I say you’re good, you’re good. They’ll listen to me. Oh hey Volks.”

“Heyo.”

“But, I don’t want to disrupt anything or be a sore spot like that. Maybe I should just send the notes along with you.”

“Dude, stop worrying about it.”

“Because…”

“I said stop worrying about it. Gill, you’re the craziest worry-wort I know, you’re worse than a girl.”

“Mmm.”

“Hey Flint, you serious about that interview?”

“Huh Volk? Oh yeah. You mean about Pokemon Battling?” Flint smiled and brought out his Pokeball. An Infernape popped out. It had become his favorite over the last year, although Flareon and Magmortar were still important parts of his team. He’s developed a hankering for Fire types, and gotten uncannily good at hybrid-physical/special blitz offensive tactics. In our battles, we had been evenly matched until junior year, after which he started to pull ahead in the win-count.

“ _Naaape!_ ”

The Pokemon stretched and hopped around on his toes. Restless, I think.

“We’re going all the way. That’s what we promised each other way back then. Hey. Are you backing out on us, Volks?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s that girlfriend of yours. She’s busting your nuts. Trying to control you. You oughta dump her.”

“I can’t just dump her,” I said.

“Sure. What, you’re worried there’s no other girl that’d date you?”

My silence told him as much.

“Look at this, Gill, prime example of a pussy-whuppin.”

“Mmm.” Gill didn’t see the humor of it.

“Infernape, Mach Punch Volkner.”

“Wait- _OUCH_!” The damn creature caught me in the chest.

“Again!”

“What the hell ar- _OOOF_!”

“What’re you doing, Volks? Fight back! For once, defend yourself!”

He goaded Infernape once more. Knowing how strong that Pokemon is, it’s obvious he’s holding back. A real punch would crack my ribs. Still, it hurt like a fastball slug directly to the chest. I didn’t want to get hit a third time. I reached for my Pokeball, but realized I didn’t have one on my belt.

A dull ‘ _thud’_ was accompanied by an odd, crystalline ‘ _ping’_.

A Reflect had sprung up in front of me, intercepting the Infernape’s Mach Punch.

Beside Gill, a Jynx was out and raising her hands in psychic exertion.

“Flint, I don’t think beating Volkner up has ever worked for you.” Gill gave a small, wry smile. “I think he might be a masochist.” The cheeky little bastard.

“Flint,” I uttered, exasperated. “Alice has a point. I could make four and half million P a year right out of college. You could make a hundred million going pro in the NBL.” I smirked at the third member of our trio. “And Gill. Thanks for the save, but Jynx and Vaporeon aren’t exactly powerhouses. Do you really think you have what it takes to become Sinnoh Champion?”

“Maybe… one day.”

“One day? Really? Because anything less than a regional champion doesn’t make a living wage. The payouts are too small. You… you’re a great musician, and songwriter. Those skills will set you up for a comfortable life. A _stable_ life,” I emphasized. “Arceus’ fucks, I know you could use that.”

“You really do sound like Alice,” Flint groused. “If you’re so cocky, why not a Pokemon battle? Here and now, let’s settle this. I win, you join me. You win, and you’ll prove your point that we’re not good enough and I’ll fill out the college aps.”

“No.”

“Come on! Let’s decide this!”

“I don’t even have my Pokeballs.”

“Wah? Oh you little brick of killjoy.” He leaned down to inspect my belt and pockets, making sure I was telling the truth.

“Well let’s go home and grab them! I’m itching here, I’M ON FIIYAAH!”

“Flint, just, stuff it.”

“What’s gotten into you, Volks? When did you give up on dreams?”

“I was never a dreamer.”

“It’s a malaise. Gotta kick it out of you somehow.”

“But not actual kicks,” Gill reminded him.

“Ah? Oh, right.”

“I’ll see you guys later.”

“Not coming to the after-party?”

“Nah, I’ll pass. You two have a good time.”

 

 

* * *

 

They lost in the semifinals that year. Flint was good, but not so good he could make up for some pretty average teammates.

There was a transfer kid at our school that year. A delinquent who spent his first three years of high school picking up trash for juvenal corrections. For some reason he fell in with the right crowd and got way more influential than some new punk had any right to be. I didn’t recognize him. Gill did. First day this pudgy guy with ill-fitting uniform and a close-cropped head of hair showed up, Gill darted into a side-corridor.

“Hey! Was that Qwilfish?! Qwil! Qwilbur! Oh come on, I’m not that scary, am I? Say hi to an old friend!”

Too late, Gill had vanished. I’m guessing this was one of his old “acquaintances” from Tochikata Middle.

“What do you want?” I stepped up, a hint of hostility in my voice.

“Hey, woah. Who’s Mr. Vanity here?”

All eyes in the school corridor were on us.

“Back off,” I warned.

“Nosing into someone else’s business, can’t stand you types.”

“Gill’s my business, juvie. Lay off, before I call your probate officer.”

“Oooo. Shit, you got me.” The instantly-unlikable ass raised his hands in mock fear. “So that’s how it is. I get it. I see. Well.” The guy, we’d later start calling him Beanie, turned around and started walking off. “I guess you all don’t got half a nutsack between ya, letting him strut around just cause he’s good looking. Too good-looking, I bet. Wonder if you’re all in on the joke.”

He disappeared around the corner, leaving me, and the rest of the student body, to wonder what that drivel was supposed to mean.

 

 

* * *

 

The bomb dropped late March, a couple weeks after the appearance of Beanie. The 20th, a Monday, I remember. It was a little cold, sunny, just a few clouds, very windy.

Alice met me right off the bus that morning. She had a medusa’s glare and cellphone in hand. I was afraid I’d done something to royally piss her off- again.

“THIS is what you’ve been keeping from me? THIS is why you shrug me off to go slinking about with _him_?” she wailed.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

She shoved the cellphone in my face. The picture was a jumble. I didn’t recognize it, couldn’t comprehend it at first. It took some seconds just to realize what I was looking at. When I did, I wish I hadn’t seen it.

“Shit.”

It was Gill, a younger Gill than I knew. And some other guy. Definitely a guy, taller, more masculine, dark hair, male school uniform. Couldn’t see his face clearly, but I was 99% positive I had never met this guy before- complete stranger. And the one shocking, undeniable truth of the photo- the two boys were kissing.

“That’s Gill?” I said aloud, dazed.

“Are you dumb? You didn’t know? You aren’t shagging him behind my back?! How dare you!”

“Hey! Alice, honey, no- I had no idea. I didn’t know about… _this_.”

Even I couldn’t suppress the revulsion in my voice.

“You didn’t know?”

“NO!”

“He’s your so-called “best friend”, how could you _not_ know he’s a _fag_?!”

“Flint’s my best friend. Gill’s a…” I didn’t know how to finish that statement.

“Your lover? Your fucktoy?”

“Knock it off!” I yelled. “I am not a homosexual!” People were watching us, listening, reacting. Murmurs of disapproval.

“Let’s go somewhere else.” I grabbed her by the shoulder, but she brushed me off.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You dumb bitch, listen to me! Let’s go somewhere private and I’ll tell you my side.”

She turned to walk.

My hand shot out and took ahold of her arm.

“I’m stronger than you,” I growled.

She stopped.

I nodded my head in the direction of the auditorium. The backstage area ought to be empty at this hour. Alice is in the theatre club, it ought to be familiar territory for her, help her calm down. Thankfully, she didn’t resist further and we hurriedly walked towards our destination.

Everyone was staring at us. Some people muttered, others chuckled. A few ventured to throw half-baked insults at our backs. One asshole threw a soda bottle at my head; I caught it mid-air and tossed it in a trashcan. No one else messed with us after that. The staring never let up, though.

We got behind the curtains and hid among the props. I took a seat on a retro-era sofa, she stood her ground before me.

“Are you gay?” she asked point-blank.

“No,” I answered right back.

“Then what are you doing with a fag.”

“Listen, I know this is ticking off all your insecurities and you’re afraid you’re going to be pegged as the woman who dated a fag, but you’re flat out wrong and need to calm the fuck down and listen to your common sense. That’s supposed to be a strong point for you. Have I ever acted like I’m into men? Do I strike you like that kind of deviant? You flung your boobs at me for whatever reason, I don’t know why, but obviously you trusted me to suck off your nipples, so trust me now: I was not the guy in that photo, I am not off touching Gill, I am NOT gay. And I swear to god I had no fucking clue about this until you shoved it in my face.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?” I pounded my chest. “Tell me, you’re smart, do you honestly think I’m lying?”

“How could you not know? You three have been duck taped together since freshman year.”

“Gill never said a word. He never did a thing. He’s a quiet, shy guy who keeps to himself. He’s smart, perceptive, clever, and knows how to keep a secret. You think _you’re_ the one being deceived? I’m the one blind-sided!”

“Even if that’s true, you pick the shittiest company.”

“I didn’t pick him! He came to me! And Flint! He latched onto _us_!”

“Yeah, and you let him!”

“I had no choice! This was Flint.”

“Oh right, you had _nooo_ say in the matter.”

“Hey!” I waved to the outside. “Who do you take me for? You think I have any leverage here? Flint’s the team captain. Flint’s the student council member. Everyone loves Flint. I’m his best friend, but you think that gives me the right to boss him around? He’s the one who vouched for Gill, he’s the one who’s protected him. Mouth off to Flint if you have a problem, not me!”

Alice crossed her arms, stared down on me with contempt. A moment of consideration passed. She scowled, leaned down close, putting herself eye-to-eye with me.

“You can make this right. Tell everyone what you told me. And dump him.”

“What?”

“Dump Gill. In front of everyone. Disown him. Call him the fag he is.”

“I…”

It seemed like, right then, every moment, every feeling, every thought, good, bad, beautiful, ugly, uneasy, fond, neutral, bland, boring, every instance of contact between me and that blue-headed boy passed before my conscience.

“I need time to think about it.”

“You don’t have time, fuckwit. You even hesitate for one second, and you’re going to get lumped in with the fag by everyone- including me.”

“He’s not some damn abomination! What the hell are you all going to do? Lynch him?”

Her stony look told me enough.

Murder?

Ha, no, that would be too easy.

This is not a tolerant school. It’s a tough, insular, conservative institution in one of the better-off blue collar neighborhoods of Veilstone. Deviants weren’t allowed. Tolerating deviants would tarnish our reputation. It would disgrace us. Offend our sense of morality.

I say “our” loosely. I don’t give a damn about any of it, that sexuality or race or creed or nationality shit. But most do. Everyone at Veilstone Premier knew what happened to kids that got outed. By the end, they’d never step foot here again. If they were lucky, they’d end up at Gemini High- better known as The Dump. College advancement rate: 4.5%. Dropout rate: 33%. Murder rate: 2.5 per year _average_. That’s the lucky ones.

The warning bell rung. Classes started in five minutes.

“Today, after class. At the back patio. Be there,” Alice commanded, and then stormed off.

 

 

* * *

 

Class was a lost cause. The teachers all sensed something was up, but no one coughed up an explanation. My mental absenteeism was overlooked in the mess. I spent lunch desperately searching for Flint, Gill, or Alice, but couldn’t find any of them. Guys I knew, who I thought I was on good terms with, gave me the cold shoulder when I approached looking for help. Crossing the main lobby, I was waved down from a private recess.

“Volkner,” a feminine voice called out.

“Heather.” Alice’s friend. She ushered me into the nook behind the stairs.

“What’s going on? I can’t find anyone.”

“Um, you know about the picture, right?”

I nodded.

Heather bit her lip.

“You should probably go home. Right now. Just skip classes.”

“I can’t do that.”

“It would be for your own good.”

“Where is Alice? And Flint?”

“The student council told me to tell you this,” she explained. The rest was left unsaid.

Jackson. That bastard. He was the Student Council President. Whatever was going to happen this afternoon, he had to be involved. Probably not directly, wouldn’t want to dirty his record, but with his permission. Heather’s advice was essentially a warning from him to me.

What really threw me off, though, was that she didn’t specify just Jackson. She said the student council. Flint was on the council.

I clenched my fist.

This wasn’t a kindness from the president. It was a favor for Flint. Flint was asking me to stay away.

“Where is Flint?”

Heather stared down and wouldn’t answer.

“Where’s Flint? Heather, I know you stalk him all day, where is he?”

“I can’t say.”

“Tell me!”

“Just go home!”

“Where is Alice?”

“She went to the super mart for lunch.”

I hissed. I checked the time. Five minutes until class. I didn’t have time to go running all over the school. Damn it.

“You know what, you go home. I’m staying,” I told her.

I was angry. Confused. Distraught. My life had been unhinged by the most moronic of things, a homophobic scandal involving a guy I thought I knew. Everyone was reacting according to their baser instincts: fear, prejudice, self-preservation. My base instinct? ANGER. I needed someone to confront, just to unload this unfair stress onto them.

“Alright, that’s all. Study your notes, not the textbook, and I’ll see you all tomorrow,” Mr. Kurama announced. The clock read 4:05- end of the school day.

The teacher waved a frenzied classroom out the door. I dragged my feet.

“Say, Volkner.”

“Yes sir?”

“Is something going on I should know about?”

I furrowed my eyebrows. My brain threw together a panicked evaluation, figuring whether it was okay to get the adults involved.

_Don’t do it. They’ll fuck you ten times over if they find out you snitched._

“No sir, everything’s boring, like every other day.”

“Oh.” The teacher nodded. “Class just seemed a little on edge. Could you keep your ears open, report anything you hear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Flint has mathematics for final period. I checked his math teacher’s room, but it was empty. Gill’s final period was art. I checked the art room and it was also empty. I shut the door, paused, and then changed my mind. Something about the room seemed off. I reentered. Why were all the modeling dolls clustered together?

“Gill, it’s me. Come out.”

He emerged from behind the mannequins.

“Volkner,” he mumbled. “…I’m scared.”

“Why didn’t you leave school?” I asked, voice immediately taking an edge.

“It’s too crowded. They’re watching every exit.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to find out your final class. They’ll come looking here.” I gestured to the door. “Come on.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

This was new. It wasn’t like Gill to refuse a command.

“Come on,” I repeated.

“It’s too crowded. They’ll see me. They’re all in on it.”

“You can stomach some dirty looks. Let’s get out of here before they beat you up.”

Again Gill refused. This obstinate idiot is getting on my nerves.

I grabbed him and sat him on a desk. He hung his head, not looking at me, or anything else for that matter.

He’s grown. Starting to look like a man, not the little child I met on the street so long ago. His dark, navy-tinted hair was disheveled and sweaty. He’s grown it out some, long enough to cover his eyes. Right now he’s wearing part of the school uniform, the shirt and trousers, but had the wrong jacket overtop. He had his glasses in his hand, daintily thumbing them over and over.

“I guess you saw it,” Gill said.

“Tell me it’s fake.”

He didn’t answer.

“For the love of Arceus, just lie! Tell them all it was cruel prank some asshats dared you into.”

Silence.

“You’re kidding.”

No reply. No answer. Continued silence. Inaction that was even more damning than outright admission.

“You’re really into guys.”

Finally, a reaction. A sniffle. He’s crying.

“Was that who I was to you? That why you moseyed up to me? Was that why?”

“NO!” he cried out. Yeah, crying, there’s tears in there. “No!” he repeated, vehemently shaking his head. “I never felt that way towards you! I would never do that, never- nothing, no feelings, nothing- I… I…”

I waited while he gathered himself.

“I… didn’t want to ruin our friendship by letting something like this get in the way. I never thought of you like that. You’re into girls, I know that, and I… it’s not that way, that’s not how I think of you,” he sputtered out all at once.

“How the hell do I know that? What was that picture? Who even are you?”

He started crying again.

“Tell me you little shit!”

“Don’t yell,” he pleaded. “Don’t cuss,” he added.

That last imploration got to me. My anger was arrested, my ego took the reign, chastising my vulgarity. Patience won out, which was good, because it took Gill another five minutes to get over his sniffling.

“He was a guy from high school I met during middle school.”

“Can I have a name?”

“Paul.”

“Last name?”

“I never learned it.”

“And who is this guy to you?”

“He was…” Gill lilted off. “A mentor, I guess.”

“Details,” I demanded.

Gill sighed. He had a look of resignation, one so thoroughly ashamed there was no longer any dignity to hold it back.

“I started noticing guys when I was eight. I did things, little things, just being curious. The guys at Tochikata caught on. They bullied me. Beat me up. With bats. And knives.”

He held out his arms. They were crisscrossed by thin white lines, scars long healed.

“You said those were from swimming in coral reefs.”

“I lied. It was the bullies.”

“Damn it, Gill.”

“There was one guy who noticed. He stood up for me. He kept them at bay, as best he could. I appreciated it. It wasn’t long before I started looking up to him. Admiring him. Wanted to be his friend.”

“Same way you latched onto me and Flint?”

“Not the same,” he replied. “Paul always acted first. He came to me. I was really shy, but he kept engaging me anyways. We became friends. The bullies stopped picking on me in the open, they waited until I was alone. Paul was older, and had really strong Pokemon, they were afraid of him. I just knew that whenever he was around, I felt safe. And for once… I felt accepted. And understood. He was really easy to talk to.”

“Something tells me he had ulterior motives.”

“Ulterior? Yeah. I guess. I wouldn’t say they were, like, nefarious though. He talked me through the feelings I was having. There were some tender moments in there. He eased me into the whole thing. Maybe sooner than I was ready for, but I don’t really regret it now. He helped me understand who I really was.”

“Did you have sex?” I asked.

There was a long pause.

“Yes.”

“And then what?”

“Well, someone caught us, and took pictures. Now it wasn’t the middle school bullies, it was high schoolers, from Paul’s high school.”

“Where did he go to school?”

“Galaga Academy.”

I hissed.

That’s a prep school for elite trainers. Snide, condescending douchebags, for the most part.

“When the bigger bullies showed up, things got bad. Really bad. Paul told me he was about to start travelling, to compete in Pokemon tournaments. He said he wouldn’t be around to look after me anymore. That I should transfer schools, and start to look after myself.”

I shook my head.

“That explains it,” I said to myself.

“I… know I’m a deviant. I get excited in ways I can’t control from checking out guys, not girls, when I’m a guy myself. That’s not normal, I realize that, I know it. And I know how other people see it.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Really, do you?” I repeated. “Do you have any idea how primordially disgusting someone like you appears to us? It’s not just disgust, like shit, or mold. It’s wrong. It offends our morals. It’s against the natural order.”

“I know that! But…” And back to the waterworks. “I… it… I only know that like you know a math equation, or a date in history. I don’t know how it _feels_. I just know how _I_ feel.”

He finally, for the first time in the conversation, looked up to meet me eye-to-eye.

“Is it so unforgivable, though? Does it really mean we can’t be friends? Are you that worried I’ll try to be… I guess, um, weird towards you?”

“Gill,” I said, trying to bring my own emotions under control. “Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn where you want to stick your dick or who you wank off to. That’s not what it’s about for me. It’s about the fact you kept this a secret. You asked to be our friend, begged to be our friend, and all this time you were dishonest, never minding how it would affect us if your perverted secret got out. So-”

There was a crash as the art room door was violently flung open.

“Found him!”

In short order six guys entered the room. They were big, juniors and seniors, muscled, and on a mission. The ring-leader was instantly recognizable.

“Beanie, what gives?”

The pudge-faced twat gestured left and right. Two guys circled me. Before I could react, they had Gill in an arm lock and were hauling him off.

“Hey! The hell are you doing?!” I took a step forward.

“Oh? You wanna join him frizz?” Beanie stepped forward. “You his fuckbuddy? His candy cane? Is that what you two were doing here, all private like?”

Beanie took a hostile step towards me. Fatter, heavier, but shorter. Stronger? Hard to tell. I didn’t have my Pokeballs and no one here looked like they had any either. My odds in a fight weren’t all that great. Beanie snapped his fingers in my face.

“Hey you, paying attention? Are you dicker or dickee here?”

He put his hands on my chest, about to prod and shove me. I smacked them away.

Everyone tensed up. They could sense it, the incoming brawl.

Then I saw Gill.

He wasn’t looking at me. He was staring down, away. Ashamed.

At that moment, all motivation, all feelings of empathy and comradery I had begrudgingly held for him, evaporated. My shoulders went limp.

“Wanna fight? Huh?”

“Beanie, come on,” one of the other kids urged. “We got the fag. Let’s go.”

“I wanna hear this punk’s answer. Might start something.”

I inhaled.

The air felt heavy, like a thunderstorm about to explode.

Beanie took a step forward. I unclenched my fist.

So be it. I don’t care anymore.

“Dude, look at him. Volkner’s a sandbag. He doesn’t do anything, and you can’t do anything to him. Let’s go.”

“Huh.” Beanie gave me one last appraisal, and then stomped back through the door.

Gill never fought them.

He should have fought. Or called my name.

Maybe he felt like he deserved this.

After what he put me through, I felt like he deserved what was coming.

But then…

_Volkner’s a sandbag._

 

 

* * *

 

I raised my eyes to Morty.

“What that guy said stuck, Morty. Five years. It still hurts.”

“Because it was true,” Morty ventured.

I nodded.

 

 

* * *

 

Veilstone Premier was built up against the hills. The main entrance was actually on Floor 3; Floor 1 emptied out onto a patio overlooking a small valley full of shrubs and scruff. The cafeteria was nearby, and people often took their lunch here during nice weather to eat and pal around. The place had an edge to it. The faculty didn’t monitor the place, making it the ideal haunt for rule-breakers to have some fun. Or, in this case, put on a public hazing.

“Got him! We got the dick licker!”

There were probably a hundred students here, maybe more. Mostly guys, but some girls. The crowd had made room for a clearing in the center of the patio, with the big roundtable at its center. By the time I got there, Beanie was standing beside the table, and Gill had been shoved on top of it. I was reminded of a Miltank being put up for auction at a meat market.

“Yo!”

Beanie produced a cell phone.

“I thought I recognized this boy when I first got here! He’s from my old school, Tochikata! Ya’ll call him Gill! Well, we had other names for him. Qwilbur was a fave. So was Blueberry! But there was one that really stuck, really nailed his personality.” Beanie turned towards Gill and grabbed ahold of his hair. “Long time no see, Gildo!”

“Huh?” one girl whispered, confused.

“Like dildo,” her friend answered.

“So I hear Gildo’s been playing coy about his sexual predilections since he got to Premier! But he’s pretty well known up north. Cell phones!” He held his up, screen outward, showing the offending photo. He then started his rant, a hate-filled thing as bad as any I’ve ever heard.

“Volkner!”

Alice found me. “You came. Good.”

Since I arrived at the back of the crowd, I hadn’t exactly gone unnoticed. Some prying eyes were keeping tabs on me, knowing I was friends with the offending party. I could see suspicion in their eyes. That feeling of being under watch and under judgment was oppressive. It went away, though, as soon as a female appeared besides me.

“It’s like a public hanging,” I said.

“We’re just preserving the proper order of things. What’ll others think of this school if we start letting perversions walk around freely?” she retorted.

“I know there’s some of you who walked side-by-side with this fag!” Beanie yelled. “Handing-holding. Belly-rubbing. Cock-dangling. Who knows? Wouldn’t surprise me. Anyone wanna pitch in? Share some stories?”

There were loud boos, roars of antipathy.

“Come on! Anyone want to defend this shit? We’re Sinnoh, damn it! What did they teach us in civics? Our courts are adversarial. We need a public defender!”

No one stepped forward. It was suicide.

“What about witnesses? Got anybody to share the goods?”

“I saw him. Trying to hide condoms in his backpack once.”

“He once peeked under the stall in the guy’s bathroom.”

“Once? Hell, he does that all the time.”

“You know his favorite food at the cafeteria? Corndogs!”

The testimony came in like flung Ambipom shit. I knew for a fact none of it was true, all lies. I wasn’t about to speak up.

Alice was staring at me.

“Come on!” she hissed. “Step up! Disown the perv! Tell them you’re straight!”

“I’m not going up there,” I said.

“I don’t want to be dating a fag!”

“Fuck your insecurities,” I said.

The verbal pulverization continued, quickly devolving into pure insults and name-calling.

There was a disturbance on the other side of the crowd.

A group of boys bubbled out of the masses, eventually spurting one individual out of their midst and into the clear area.

“Flint,” I muttered.

My best friend was looking awful. His afro was a mess, as was his uniform. He had baggy eyes and a grim expression.

“There he is. The fag’s protector. The fag’s patron. The fag’s sugar daddy. Want your boy toy back? Hmm?”

Flint stared down Beanie, then took turns looking for other faces. Heather, his on-again, off-again flirt. Jackson, the student council president, looking down on us from the second-floor bay windows. The masses of expectant, hushed teenagers, each pair of eyes swimming in a pint of bile. He avoided looking at Gill, stranded and helpless on the roundtable. His gaze instead swept across the crowd, searching. For me, I realized.

“We were about to hand out a verdict. Got any words for the jury?” Beanie asked. Flint wasn’t quick to answer. One guy gave him a shove in the back, so that he was standing clear in the open, exposed.

Beanie had at hand a crate of egg cartons and a trash bin. He opened one case and took out three eggs. He offered one to Flint, offering it up like a can of soda, like ‘here, have a drink, let’s be friends’.

“Well, what’s it gonna be? He was your boy. Are you one of them? Tolerant lib-shit types? Huh?”

Flint took another look over the crowd. He shook his head, muttered something.

“What is that? Can’t hear you! I’m asking, do you condone this deviant?!” Beanie shouted.

Everyone was watching, listening, no one was breathing.

Flint spoke up.

“Do you what you want. I don’t know him.”

He turned around, and as he did, he chucked the egg over his shoulder. It landed on the patio, splattering apart and leaving a putrid mess of shell and yolk and white.

“Friendship: DENIED!” Beanie roared.

The egg cartons were passed around. The next couple dozen eggs did not miss the target.

Students rushed in, eager to get their hands on the projectiles, fighting each other to get to see who could throw harder, hit a more painful, humiliating spot. Gill tried only once to get away, but was shoved back by one of Beanie’s strong men. After that, he simply died on the edge of the table, taking the endless barrage like a corpse. They emptied the whole crate onto him. It wasn’t some short barrage. It went on ten straight minutes. The end result was grotesque. His clothes and hair were drenched with egg innards. He looked like a newborn crawling out of the womb.

“Pokemon! Who’s got sidekicks?” someone yelled. A moment later several popped out. I saw a Drowzee, Grimer, Psyduck, a pair of Stunky, and a Kadabra among the assembly. There were others, but these were the ones that came forward, the ones that didn’t shrink away when egged on by their trainers.

Gill tried crawling off the table. His body seized up, twisting wildly before locking up in an awkward position. The Kadabra was holding him in place with a Psychic attack. The Stunky took turns spraying him down with Poison Gas. Grimer slithered all over his head, leaving a trail of its mucus to mix in with the egg yolk.

The smell was becoming palpable, even at the edge of the crowd. It smelled like leftovers rescued from the bottom of the fridge after being forgotten for three months. Some of the girls began holding their nose and backing away. A few left.

Beanie waddled up to Gill.

“This is so gross.” He waved the Psyduck over. “Wash him off.”

The Water Pokemon gleefully complied, gunning the boy down with a Water Gun. It must have hurt. Gill cried and flopped over, taking most of the drenching on his back. Beanie grabbed him and flipped him right back over. “The face,” he pointed. Psyduck emptied a full-force gush. Gill gargled, sputtered, and screamed. The Water Gun kept going. Onlookers nervously laughed, perhaps the tiniest bit of doubt entering the back of their minds- ‘What if he drowns?’

The Water Gun ended, Psyduck exhausting its reserves. Gill slumped down. He heaved, water and stomach contents upchucking out of the deeper parts of his throat. He didn’t have time to recover. Beanie stood over him, lifting him up into a kneeling position and forcing his head up by grabbing his hair.

“Hey there, piece of shit! I said HELLO!” The fat fuck shook Gill violently. “So you wanna fit in? A shitlicker like you thinks he can be one of us?” He turned to the audience, by now 99% boys, and mostly upperclassmen at that. “You all let this toilet stain walk around? Damn! Well,” he turned back to Gill. “I guess he was pretty careful to hide what he was. But now we all know. So what should we do?”

“Pulp him!” came one cry.

“Crack his balls!”

“Castrate him!”

Beanie raised his fist high, gleefully smiling.

Then he stopped.

His grin went wider. His fist came down, slowly.

“We’re a tolerant society, ain’t we?” he said. “Let’s give him a chance. To be accepted.”

His fist lowered further.

“There’s always a place for fags. In our school.”

The hell was he talking about?

Beanie’s hand went down lower… to his own zipper.

The other guys saw it too. The hooting started low. It grew, and grew, into a synchronized reverb. Someone started a chant.

“Dick. Lick. Dick. Lick. Dick Lick Dick Lick Dick Lick! DickLickDickLickDickLickDICKLICKDICKLICKDICKLICKDICKLICKDICKLICK!!!”

Gill gaped and sobbed. He was totaled, barely able to register what was happening, let alone resist.

Beanie’s rigid cock was out and molesting Gill’s face. The penis was every bit as big and obese as the fat fuck himself. His balls were overgrown and sweat-soaked, like some putrid swamp. He took turns prodding Gill in the eye and slapping him across the cheek with it.

“Hey, I thought you like this? YOU LIKE THIS, DON’T YOU?! Eat up! Eat, you scrawny fuckboy! EAT! EAT!”

Beanie grabbed Gill by the skull, fingers in his eyes, thumbs in his mouth, forcing both open.

“Take it or its going up your ass!”

Still, Gill wouldn’t open his mouth.

“Do it or we’re letting the monsters fuck you!” he screamed.

Even that wouldn’t force Gill’s mouth open.

Beanie tightened his grip, leaned down, and whispered into Gill’s ear. His eyes went wide with fear. Slowly, abhorrently, his mouth drooped open.

Beanie went in. He wasn’t gentle. It was deep, and hard, and violent. Gill gagged and tried to pull away. Beanie’s grip kept Gill’s orifice impaled on the bully’s dick. The boy shuddered. He was choking. Beanie’s hips kept bucking away.

It wasn’t over until the bully had his orgasm. He smiled, closed his eyes, and relished in the pleasure of criminal perversion. Onlookers whooped and cheered.

Beanie extracted himself, and Gill collapsed. The latter tried to cough it up, but Beanie leaned over and grabbed him by the throat.

“Swallow,” he ordered.

Gill did so.

Beanie shoved him over, put his limp sock away, and strutted up to the nearest group of boys.

“Nothing’s better than free service!” he announced to riotous laughter. “Go on. Try it! If the kid wants to suck cocks so badly, by all means, don’t deny the poor!”

Other boys were approaching Gill. Some were already going for their zippers, others were just raising their fists. One guy drove his shoe into Gill’s side. Another bent down, dick already hanging, his hand working to get it up. He stopped, a shadow falling across him.

“Enough,” I warned.

The boys backed off a step, before steeling themselves and stepping forward, irritated. I let out Electivire. My Pokemon scanned the crowd, looking for any threats, and didn’t see anything remotely resembling one. Cowards and weaklings, that’s all that greeted us. Just weaklings, but a lot. Better to get out of here.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Alice came rushing up to me. I ignored her and went to Gill.

“Can you walk?” I asked.

“Volkner! Don’t you dare help that thing!”

Gill nodded, slowly. I took him, lifted him up on my shoulder, and started off.

“Volkner!” Alice looked around frantically, studying the faces of those surrounding us. “I swear, I will not be dating a homosexual!”

I paused. Tension crept down my arm, towards my hand. My fingers curled into a fist.

I’ve never hit a woman.

I vowed to never hit a woman.

Looking into Alice’s face, I wanted to, so badly. She saw it.

“You’re going to hit me? Please! Do it!” she hissed. “You always were a coward! Prove me wrong!”

Gill’s hand tightened around my shoulder. The tension dissipated. My thoughts went elsewhere.

My focus shifted, settling on another person. He was surrounded by strangers, as if trying to hide, but I found him. As I brushed past my hysterical, soon-to-be ex-girlfriend and carried Gill out of that nightmarish scene, my gaze never strayed.

The young man with the red afro stood stock-still, gazing right back, showing… nothing. No emotion. No protest. Zero resistance.


	6. Fallible Hero

“What did you do?” Morty asked.

“I did nothing.” I held my head in my hands; I was terrified if I let go it would fall off with all the weight it carried. Well, to be real, I would give up against even the trivial task of supporting my own weight, drop, and bash my skull against the table edge.

“Why?” came the next question.

“Good question. I’ve asked myself that about a literal thousand times since then. Hey, maybe it makes more sense if I asked you, mister smarty pants. Why would a guy stand by and do nothing while his friend is brutalized in front of him? Why would he do nothing, say nothing? Why’d he not even feel the slightest bit of guilt or shame, or even sympathy? Huh?”

Morty lowered his voice and leaned forward.

“This guy isn’t you, is it?”

“You are so damn perceptive.”

“Let me take a stab at breaking this down. First, what’s your attitude towards homosexuals?”

“I don’t care. Don’t bother me, I don’t bother them.”

“So, unsympathetic.”

“Where do you get off calling me unsympathetic?”

“Because it’s true. Even saying things like “I don’t bother them”, you’re setting up a barrier between you and them. No one’s an island. Everyone affects everyone else they come in contact with. Happiness and sadness is just the balance between the accumulated points of contact we share with other beings. Just by saying that, you’re staking a sign in your personal space saying “Off limits!” to the gays. That becomes one more point of negativity in their life, one more thorn sticking in their psyche, and one less positive outlet they could have had.

Maybe you alone won’t tip the balance, but enough people do that, the scales will flip. Everything good in society relies on everyone contributing. It’s individual responsibility. Even if one outlier doesn’t cause any harm, letting them get away with being an outlier just shows anyone they too can get their own way. This applies to crime: what’s the big deal about one theft? Ten thefts? A million? Environment, same. One trash bag in the reservoir, oh boo hoo, but let one person get away with it, and soon enough you’re drinking water from a garbage dump. Jobs too- if everyone took welfare, there’d be no one left working to provide the handouts. Prejudice works the same way. If one person turns a blind eye and says “not my problem”, then so can another 97 out of 100. And that 99th person? He can murder the 100th and face zero consequences.”

I slumped in my seat.

“I don’t hate gays,” I reiterated. “And if I don’t exactly have an open heart for them, well, they’re not unique. I don’t feel much for anyone.”

“You’re hollow, Volkner. Apathetic. Depressed. That’s not something I can help you with, that’s a biochemical thing and requires a shrink, and medication.”

“I don’t want drugs.”

“Suit yourself. You _are_ going to a shrink. I’m going to see to that.”

“Whatever you say.”

“So at the very least, you didn’t care enough about the cause of the bullying to intervene. You also didn’t care enough about Gill to get involved until it was over. So I take it, you’re not the kind of guy who feels really strongly about moral righteousness. Not enough to take action in the face of long odds.”

“I’m no hero.”

“How about your girlfriend then? Did you hesitate because of her?”

“Obviously not.”

“Well, from your telling, I got the vibe she was a homophobe, but her prime concern was her own reputation. Girls can be complicated, but it’s easy to relate to the insecurity of trying to date someone who isn’t attracted to your gender. Add on the humiliation and crap she’d take from her friends and enemies for dating an “undesirable”, and I find her actions understandable. Not forgivable, but understandable. Which leads to the next issue. Were you afraid of being judged?”

I mulled it over.

“Yeah. At the time, anyways. It wasn’t the risk I’d get bullied afterwards. I was never really popular in the first place. I was afraid then and there, afraid I’d get into a fight, that as bad as it was, it could get a lot worse, especially for me.” I imagined that day, what I saw all around me. “Morty, there were a hundred guys in that crowd. No one did a thing. Not _one_ …”

 

* * *

 

Mr. Kurama called me into his room two days after the incident.

“Could you take a seat?” He motioned to two open chairs set up to face one another. I slouched into one, he took the other. He crossed his arms. “And just to let you know, you’re not in trouble or anything like that, we’re just trying to figure out the situation.”

“Sir.” I nodded, curtly.

“So there was an incident the other day, I’m sure you know about it.”

“Yeah.”

A tenth of the school was there. The other nine-tenths were yammering non-stop about it. Rumors ran amok, most inaccurate, all under breath and out of ear shot of the faculty.

“So to clarify, two days ago, there was some sort of gathering or confrontation at the back patio after school. Were you there?”

“Yes.”

He raised an eyebrow, as if thinking, ‘ _finally, a breakthrough’_.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Nothing. Some guys got into an argument, there was a little punching, and then they backed off.”

A frown. His expectations were premature. He breathed, collected himself, leaned over and started talking seriously.

“Listen, Volkner, I’ve been here ten years. I know the verve of the place. When a big crowd gathers after hours, cause a ruckus, and then every last student clamps down on their tongues, it’s not some playground scuffle. I’m not stupid. Gill Yasashi’s been missing since yesterday.”

My thoughts went back to Gill, and the last time I saw him.

I had walked him home, not saying a thing the whole way. At the doorstep of his ramshackle house, he turned to go in, but paused.

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” he uttered.

“ _Get a shower,_ ” I ordered, and left him there.

“Volkner. Hey, Denzi.”

Mr. Kurama noticed me dazing off.

“Gill was in the fight. He’s a wimp and didn’t take it well. He probably doesn’t want to come back to school, got his feelings hurt,” I said.

The teacher pounded the nearest desk with his fist. The explosion of anger lasted a micro-second, enough to show just how frustrated he was right now and how hard it was for him to control himself. But being an adult, and a teacher, he got his emotions under control a second later. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but still very serious.

“I’ll be frank, Volkner. This job is hard. Mentally hard. I probably should have transferred to Sunyshore years ago. It would’ve been better for my stress levels. But when I started teaching, I made a commitment to this community, I wanted to give what little hope I could to this place. You’re an upstanding guy, Volkner, one of the few in the class. I really, really want to believe you care. It’s not too much to ask, if you want to help here and bring something positive to this trash heap, to just tell me the truth.”

Dude, teacher, you’re overestimating me.

“You’re mistaken, sir,” I said. “I do _not_ care.”

Kurama grimaced.

“What’s going on Volkner? I find it really, really hard to take you at your word right now. You’re not the kind of guy to be dragged down to _their_ level.” He nodded to the empty classroom. “Were you involved? Did you have some stake in the fight? If you got into another fight to put some savage in his place, I won’t bust you for that. I promise.”

I clamped down and remained silent.

“Damn it, kid, not you! Not you too!” He was shaking, he was so frustrated.

It was breaking him. This incident was just the latest, and not even the most egregious, in a long, long line of conflicts that has plagued Veilstone Premier. I almost felt sorry for him.

“I don’t understand you kids anymore. No one talks. No one trusts us. We’re trying to help, damn it, but you all keep to your damn conspiracy and lock us out of the loop. We want to help, what can’t you all understand about that?!”

I snapped.

“HELP? The fuck does that mean, “ _help_ ”? You yap about how long you’ve been here, ten years, and you still haven’t figured out the situation here? We’re just fucking kids. We don’t have some conspiracy, we didn’t pick our prejudices out of thin air. Everything we do, everything we believe in, we learned from you adults. Yeah, that includes who we hate and who we ostracize. Want to know why no one’s talking? Because the criminals aren’t going to fess up their crimes and the ones who actually give a damn are scared and don’t trust you. They don’t trust you to protect them from the mob, but more than that, they don’t trust you to do anything, because I’d bet my scholarship Principal Ivert is not going to do a damn thing when he finds out the truth.”

“Tell me the truth, Volkner, what happened?”

“As far as you and Ivert and the rest of the teachers, nothing happened.”

“You can’t judge that based on… nothing can possibly happen unless you tell us! Try, for Arceus’ sake, try to trust us!”

“Gill got raped for being a homosexual.”

The admission hit him in the gut. Mr. Kurama went silent. He knew, instantly, how useless this interrogation was.

 

* * *

 

“Did they do anything about it?” Morty asked.

I shook my head.

“Nothing. Beanie got away with it. Jackson and everyone else who let it happen, nothing, no repercussions. Well, almost. Beanie made a mistake, he should have just beat Gill up. The girls took offense to his blowjob, labeled him a fag the same as Gill, and his relationship with the other students got really frosty. The principal had Beanie transferred to another school with some unrelated excuse, just hushed up the entire affair. Last I heard, he dropped out, sold drugs on the street, got caught and locked up. The rest just lived their lives like normal. No one faced justice for what happened that day.”

“Dang. Were the students really that homophobic?”

“I don’t think it was just Gill’s orientation. Day one, no one liked him. He was shy, he acted odd, he didn’t fit in. Wrong fashion sense, wrong humor, overly optimistic for their tastes. They called him the Teacher’s Pokemon. He was too naïve, the teachers knew he would rat out trouble-makers out of simple honesty. Girls who wanted Flint’s attention were jealous of him. When they found out he was gay, that ticked them off, like, ‘ _Oh now he’s a pervert who’s trying to get his hands on Flint, we can’t allow that!_ ’. It was an excuse.”

Morty got up, went to the kitchen, and brought back two glasses of water. I’d been talking for a long time and needed it. He handed one over. The glass was empty when I set it down.

“Did they hate him because he was gay?” I continued. “Yeah. But I think what drove them over the edge, what had them rooting for Beanie even when Beanie was doing the gayest thing imaginable- they were afraid of each other. No one wanted to make a stand, not for Gill, not if it meant judgment from their friends, or- I guess you picked up on this- condemnation from their parents.”

Morty nodded.

“Sinnoh’s pretty socially progressive, as a region. Veilstone’s the exception. They’re the last holdout on the whole gay marriage ordeal. Must be a tough place to be attracted to the wrong gender.”

“It’s deeper than that,” I said. “The Galactics were based there. The Anti-government riots from a decade back. The anti-corruption laws that got levelled on Veilstone when other places with equally petty local tyrants got ignored. That city has a chip on its shoulder. They look at everyone who tries to change them as a threat, and that’s making them hold onto their old-fashioned identity tighter than a yaoi fangirl and her dakimakura. It makes it so the women are guarded and jealous, and the men feel like they need to constantly prove their masculinity. That attitude gets enforced on the young people by their parents.”

“So I get why the students did nothing. Your teacher was right, though, it’s not like you to stand around and let this happen, no matter what you thought about Gill’s sexuality. You’re better than that.”

“I’m not. I wasn’t better than that, on that day.”

“And so we come to why… why would a guy stand and do nothing while his best friend is tortured?” Morty paused, catching my eye. “Why did Flint forsake Gill?”

 

* * *

 

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!!!” I swung and missed. I swung again, and he ducked. His red afro made his head a tough target, so I went in low. He hopped back and flung a round house kick, catching me in the side. I gritted and barreled forward, catching him in the chest with my shoulder. He was a junior first-rank taekwondo artist. I was taller, heavier, and the better wrestler. My best shot at pulverizing the bastard was to get him on the ground. I succeeded, but didn’t have the best position. He caught me in the jaw with a few jabs. I ignored the pain. We rolled around, struggling and hitting as we went. I remained on top but couldn’t get a choke hold or any punches in.

Flint gritted his teeth, squirmed, and got a hand to his belt. There was a flash. I reacted in time, and let out a second flash.

The next moment we went perfectly still, staring each other angrily in the eyes. Magmortar had an arm cannon aimed at my head, Electivire had a hand wrapped around the back of Flint’s skull.

“Get off me!” he hissed.

“You bastard. You let them rape Gill.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” he warned, suddenly throwing me off. Electivire dragged Flint and flipped him overhead, landing him hard on his back. I shoved Magmortar’s cannon up, just in time to deflect a Flame Burst. Flint scrambled to his feet. Electivire tackled Magmortar and rolled. The Fire type put his arm to the ground, which exploded, breaking the two Pokemon apart. They regained their composure and jumped to their respective trainer’s side. Flint and I stood facing each other down. The threat of the Pokemon kept us from flying at each other again.

“He was your friend, and you did nothing!” I screamed.

“I’m not going to listen to guilt-tripping from a sniveling coward who has nothing to lose!” Flint pounded his chest.

“He was your friend, he was your responsibility! You kept him around and tried to prop him up when the whole damn school hated him. And now you abandoned him when he needed you! I’m not the coward!”

“If you love Gildo so much you take him in!”

That pissed me off, Flint using that slur after just learning it. I felt the impulse to step forward and take another swing at him. Electivire held me back with one big paw on my shoulder.

“Then why’d you stick up for him in the first place? You fucking hypocrite.”

“I felt sorry for a shy kid! That’s all! I made friends with a guy with the same aspirations as me. I didn’t become friends with a fag! I liked the fact that he idolized me, but if it’s because he wanted my dick, fuck that!”

“Tell me you’re lying,” I demanded.

“I’m not a liar. Gill was the liar,” he spat back.

“Then you really, seriously disappoint me.”

“It doesn’t take much, does it? You’re the most judgmental person in the whole school, shelling out condemnation for any little tit and tat, muttering under your breath about what a shit everyone is, but never doing a damn thing about it! Oh, right, give me that look, that passive aggressive stare you wear so well.”

“Was it really because he’s a homo? Or was it because you were afraid of being pegged as a homo too? I thought you were above that.”

“Like I’m going to stand here and take baseless insults. Not from a coward who didn’t even say a word himself.” He turned around and started to walk off.

“You’re the one guy in this whole damn school who could get them to accept Gill! If you had stuck your neck out, you could have changed things!” I started tearing up. “You could do what I couldn’t! I can’t protect Gill! You could! YOU! NOT ME!”

Flint kept walking.

“So I’m the coward that couldn’t do a damn thing because I’m a fucking sandbag that everyone ignores?! I’m the coward for not fighting a hundred fucking men? I’m the coward for being absolutely powerless, huh? Well what does that make the guy who has all the power and all the sway over the whole damn school, and does _nothing_ , just to save his pretty little feelings? Because from where I stand, that just makes him a sniveling, bratty, whiny, pussy, **FAGGOT!** ”

The red head spun around, dashed, and threw a haymaker. I crossed my arms in front of me to block, but the blow still forced me back a few steps. He erupted into a storm of kicks, chops, and punches. Pain exploded at every vulnerable part of my body. I tried guarding, it was useless.

“Thunder Wave!” I shouted.

Electivire leapt forward, tails sparking.

Magmortar jumped to its trainer’s aid, firing off a barrage of Flame Bursts. The first missed, the second was dodged, but the third through sixth splattered across Electivire’s guarded arms. I stumbled to the ground beside my Pokemon. Flint jumped on top of me and landed a good sock to my jaw before he was lifted off. My Pokemon was holding him up by the armpits. Electivire pivoted around, using Flint as a human shield against Magmortar’s next attack. The Fire type caught itself in the nick of time, pulling up and sending a full-power Fire Blast over our heads. It hit an old oak tree, setting its foliage aflame. Flint struggled and kicked, catching Electivire in the shin. My Pokemon shoved him back towards his own Pokemon and powered up a Thunderbolt.

“That how you want to settle this?” Flint asked, rubbing his knuckles.

I wiped a trickle of blood from my chin.

“Let’s go.”

The canopy of the oak combusted. I felt the light of it on my back, making me nothing more than a shadowy outline to Flint. Flint was alight in the fire’s glow, looking more demonic than human.

My mind switched to battle mode, even as every tactical decision was shaded by waves of wrath.

“Fire Spin!” Flint yelled.

Most Fire Spins are vertical, like a tornado. Not Magmortar’s. This thing blows them out horizontally, like a fan blowing.

“The Spin disrupts ranged,” I told Electivire, who was charging a Thunderbolt. The electrical bolt fired, and sure enough, dissipated uselessly in the whirling inferno.

Gotta figure a way to get Electivire up close, he’s a close-quarters fighter.

“Fire Wall.” Damn, Flint knows that, he’s gonna set up a barrier.

Magmortar’s Fire Spin swept through the yard, leaving behind a solid sheet of billowing flames. He figures he can sit back and lob Fire Blasts from safety. No chance I’m going to sit and let that happen.

“Dig,” I ordered.

Electivire clawed into the ground, making a subterranean zigzag approach towards the enemy. His trail disappeared at the firewall as he dug deeper.

“Lava Plume the ground.”

“Light Screen!”

Magmortar punched the ground repeatedly, looking for a crack or crevice that would lead to Electivire’s hidden position and filling it with a pyroclastic ash cloud. In the narrow confines of underground tunnels, attacks are magnified. Lava Plume was denser and stronger, but a Light Screen’s breadth could be shrunk to make the shield thicker. Which one would benefit more? Whichever way it worked out, I wouldn’t be able to tell from back here. Need to go on offense.

“Up!” I ordered.

The ground behind Magmortar spit up like a geyser. The Fire Pokemon immediately ran over, Lava Plume at ready on the tip of his arm cannon.

“Stay back!” Flint warned preemptively, just as I yelled “Thunder!”

A lightning strike descended from the air into the hole. Magmortar caught itself in time, getting pushed back by the shockwave but avoiding the much more dangerous electrified bolt. That created the opening I wanted.

“Cross Chop!”

Electivire leapt out of the hole and went after the disoriented Magmortar. My Pokemon came in low, attacking with his hands coming in wide and underneath. Magmortar caught the attack with his wrists. For a moment the pair struggled. Muscles bulged, wavered, and tensed. Electivire was stronger and gained ground, inch by inch. His Chop closed in on Magmortar’s neck, the Firetype’s forearms were about to buckle. However, the foe realized his cannons were pointed directly at Electivire’s torso; he capitalized by pumping out an unfocused but point-blank Fire attack. Electivire staggered backwards.

“Thunder Punch!”

“Flamethrower!”

Electivire blitzed in, throwing one overhead strike after another. Magmortar kept blocking, but each block threw off an attempted Flamethrower.

“Low Kick combo!”

Staggered by the high blows, Magmortar wasn’t expecting a strike to its footing. My Pokemon kicked out, sweeping Magmortar off its feet, and followed with an overhead haymaking Thunder Punch.

Magmortar blasted the ground with a fiery jet, arresting his fall mid-air and sending him spinning. He got a block on the Thunder Punch, spinning it and Electivire past him. It was like watching Flint’s taekwondo. Magmortar finished his motion with a Fire Punch to the back of Electivire’s head. My Pokemon staggered forward, dropping to one knee momentarily.

“Fire Blast, finish it.”

Magmortar put his cannon to the back of Electivire’s head.

“Discharge!” I screamed.

The result was messy.

Electivire’s whole body lit up, encapsulating himself, Magmortar, and everything in a five-foot radius with a crackling blue aura. The shock triggered Magmortar, who automatically let loose a misaimed Fire Blast. The bomb missed Electivire’s head but detonated on the ground directly in front of him. Both Pokemon were hit by the explosion.

“Damn it,” I said, gritting my teeth. That didn’t look good.

Electivire was conscious, but that wasn’t the problem. His face and torso were badly burned. His eyes were glazed over and unfocused, probably a concussion suffered from the Fire Punch. He dropped to his side and started rolling about slowly in extreme pain.

Magmortar was in better shape, in that he was still standing. The creature wanted to put Electivire down for good, judging by the way he was trying to raise his arm cannon. However, he couldn’t move his limb. It jittered and jerked at his side, refusing to rise more than a few inches- it’s paralyzed.

I reached out with Electivire’s Pokeball, bringing him into the safety of its confines before Magmortar could recover. I took a glance at the ball, wondering how bad the injuries were and whether I should bring out a second Pokemon. I didn’t see Flint coming.

I was hit in the chest with a straight kick and tumbled over. Flint planted his foot on top of me. I was already hurting from his previous assault and couldn’t fight back. Besides, Infernape appeared to back Flint up.

“Give up?” he snidely asked.

What was I supposed to do?

I had no plans, no backup, no means to defy him. Still, my dignity would not allow me to acknowledge this bastard’s victory. So I did what I always do- nothing. Lie still and pray he doesn’t feel like beating me up.

“Thought so,” he spat out. Eyes wide, lips drawn, cheeks flush, brow furled, breath heavy- anger was written all over his face. Flint was an extrovert, a Type-A, a guy with emotions as big and loud as his afro. Most of the time this manifested as joy, the contagious, unreserved thrill that made him so incredibly popular with students. But when he’s angry, when he’s full of wrath like right now, that personality magnified his anger into something terrifying. Like a volcano filling the sky with fiery doom.

Yet, that doom never fell.

“You want to judge me? Go take Gill’s side. See how long you last. Come back and judge me after graduation.” He took his foot off me. He retreated, walking backwards, staring down on me for a good five steps before swiveling around. Infernape stood guard over me a second longer, and then followed. Magmortar stumbled after them, jerkily, still shaking off the effects of the Discharge.

I closed my eyes and wallowed in pain.

 

* * *

 

“Wow. That sucks.”

You can always count on Morty for pity. He wears that sympathetic mask well, especially now. It almost looked genuine.

“You’re still his friend, after that?” he asked.

I waved him off.

“Friend is a loose term. It happened years ago, and we’d been in fights before.”

“But after something like that, how could you forgive the guy?”

“Because I had a hard time blaming him in the first place,” I answered. “He had one thing right. I was in no position to judge him.”

Morty pondered a bit.

“Yeah. So, I’ve deduced your answer, I think. You didn’t act because Flint didn’t act. You would have backed him up, if he had spoken up against the crowd. Which fits in with your character.”

“Huh?”

Morty chuckled.

“One of your faults, your real weaknesses, Volkner. You rely too much on others for motivation and moral guidance. Geeze, the things I had to do just to get you to a party.”

“Hey, you’re hardly qualified to be a moral guide,” I countered. He shrugged.

“Maybe not. But I know I would have stuck up for Gill, without hesitation.”

“Yeah right. You’re a huss, you wouldn’t have done anything different.”

“I’m not saying I could’ve stopped it, and I’m not saying I’ve got more guts or stronger conviction than you. Nah. I’m just saying, I’m stupid enough that I wouldn’t consider the consequences of acting on what I felt is right. Or fun. Or funny, for that matter.”

Memories of driving a tank through Saffron sprung to mind.

“And,” he added, “after what I’ve been through, taking shit from kids for backing up a gay friend wouldn’t really bother me. I’ve been through worse.”

I nodded.

It was one of the reasons I called him, the reason I thought he would understand.

Morty’s got a father and a mother- and that’s it.

He’s lost something like fifteen relatives and friends. All prematurely. Some violently. Most before he turned fifteen. It’s not something I could imagine going through as a young child. How he stays sane, I’ll never know. A god-given spiritual resilience, I guess.

“If you could do it, why didn’t Flint?” I asked.

Morty shook his head.

“Beyond the obvious, I couldn’t tell you. I can’t get into Flint’s head. But,” he said, rubbing his temples, “I suspect that you already know the reason.”

As I said, too damn perceptive.

“I know now. I didn’t know then. And I still don’t understand it. Maybe I’m autistic. Or a sociopath. Who knows. What Flint did, why he did it, it’s hard to swallow. I don’t get it.”

“So what was it?”

“We’ll get to that. First-”

It had taken awhile, but I finally got the words to describe my feelings arranged in front of me, and start blurting them out loud.

 “Why I didn’t do anything- someone like me, growing up in a family like mine, in a school like mine, sort of a loner, it was hard knowing when it was the right time to act, and when I should keep my mouth shut. Flint was the extrovert, he handled the talking and the decision-making, at least as far as dealing with people. I followed his lead. He was my best friend, but in some ways, he was my hero. Nah, never mind, “hero” is going overboard, but you get the idea. I looked up to him… so it really, really screwed me over, to watch him disown Gill like that. Do you know what it’s like, watching your role model fail you?”

“I don’t, but I imagine it hurts.”

“More than hurts. It pretty thoroughly trampled my concept of good and evil. I think, that alone was what kept me back. I didn’t know if he had a good reason to disown Gill. Maybe Gill’s deception went beyond his sexual orientation. Or maybe he was trying to help Gill in some covert way. Or, and this is the one I wish I could take back, it made me think gays really were subhuman, and Flint was right to back off.”

“That’s wrong,” Morty said. “That’s a pretty evil way of thinking. But you don’t believe that anymore, do you?”

“It didn’t take two minutes for me to reject the idea, Morty. But that’s still two minutes longer than I should have entertained it. It was that kind of pressure, watching my best friend not doing what was right and abandoning a friend, that made me question everything and hesitate too long.”

“I see. I see. Let me get another glass for you.”

“I’ll get it myself.”

“Nah, rest, rest.”

He got up and went to the kitchen. I followed him with my eyes, resting on the gun as he walked by it. I was still staring at it when he returned, and he noticed.

“So is this why I’m here?”

“Hm?”

He handed the glass over. I was grateful, and enjoyed the feeling of the ice-cold water engulfing my throat.

“Do you feel guilty for not stopping Gill’s rape?”

“Yeah.”

“And is that guilt the reason for that,” he said, pointing to the gun.

“No.”

“But it is a part of it, right? This letter is from Gill, and you went somewhere dark when you read it. Maybe I should read it,” he said.

“No! Don’t!”

He had the letter in hand, at chest level.

“You can’t keep secrets if you want my help,” he said.

“Not yet,” I pleaded. “There’s a little more.”

“Figures.”

He put the letter down.

“So what happened to Gill after the incident?” he asked.

I sighed, trying to keep my memories in order. If he wants to know the reason for the gun, he has to understand everything, in the order that it happened.

“The bullying didn’t stop,” I answered.


	7. A Path Too Often Taken

“Who put this crap here?” I asked out loud. No one in the class answered with more than a snide giggle.

My desk was covered in permanent marker graffiti. Profanity, insults, the works, but the most telling was the pictogram of a stick figure with spiked blonde hair bent over a blue-haired stick figure, doggy-style.

“Baxter?” I said with a growl.

“I didn’t do nothin.”

“Either you did it or you know who did it.”

“Screw me. Wait, no, don’t- pfffhaahaha!” He found his own inadvertent innuendo way too funny. I walked over, flipped his books off his desk, and hefted the thing into the air.

“Woah, the hell? What’re you doin? Put my desk down, jerk.”

“Take mine,” I said while maneuvering through the classroom.

“Hell I ain’t takin yours. Get back here ‘for I slug ya.”

“I’ll drop this desk on your head, asshole.” I set his desk down at my assigned position, shoved my old desk in his direction, and took my seat.

Baxter was a coward and I was still known for following through on threats. We silently jawed and mouthed off for the rest of class, but he never had the guts to get physical.

Flint was right, to a degree. The student body started targeting me for sticking up for the gay kid. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle though. Not even the ostracism bothered me. I wasn’t welcomed with open arms even when I was with Flint, these cold shoulders were nothing new. The insults and fighting were normal, I guess. I saw my fair share of detention, but I made every instigator share it with me, or else pay for the pleasure with bruises.

For Gill, though, it was another matter.

“GET LOST! GET LOST! GET LOST! GET LOST!”

Every morning he would try to slip in some different way. Inevitably, he would be spotted, and the jeering started. Not from some one heckler or another, but everyone. Sometimes, they would chant in unison. “Get lost!” was pretty tame, but common, since it wasn’t technically a curse word and they wouldn’t get in trouble if a teacher caught them. As if any teacher cared enough to intervene.

I talked with the counselor. She was frank with me.

“I don’t think someone of Gill’s nature could ever be accepted at this school. While I share your concern and your desire for more tolerance amongst the study body, there are hard realities that must be confronted which will not be easily overcome, and certainly not in a timeframe beneficial to your friend. His best option would be to transfer to Gemini.”

I craned my neck to see what she was writing down in her notebook. ‘ _Freaks belong with freaks!’_.

“Right. Got it. Okay, thanks for listening,” I said, and abruptly left.

By mid-April, the bullying had become a frenzy.

I found him after school one day, egg yolk dripping from his hair (that was common too) and one eye blackened.

“Who did that to you?”

Gill shook his head.

“C’mon, tell me. Don’t keep quiet.”

“I don’t want you to get in any more trouble.”

“Gill, you’re trouble just by staying here! Why don’t you transfer already?”

“There’s only two more months until graduation,” he said in excuse.

“So? Get a special needs class. Or home school it-” I stopped myself.

Right. Gill’s mother, home school him. What a cruel joke.

“It’s only two months. Drop out of classes, do self-study at the library, and just come back for the exams.”

“I won’t give in.”

God I want to slap him!

“You’re not in a position to be acting tough!” I yelled.

He flinched under my voice. He looked small and pathetic, like a Rattata picked from a sewage drain.

“What’s this really about? Why’re you brining all this unnecessary crap down on yourself?”

He stared blankly past me. If he was dazing off and avoiding the question again, I’ll-

Wait, not blankly. He’s focusing on something. He gestured, and I turned.

Flint, flanked by new friends, strode past. For a moment he turned his head and stared straight at me. We locked eyes. Then- gone. Just that quickly, he turned to his comrade, kept talking, and walked on.

I know he saw me. And Gill. Just blew past us like we were… no, not like we were nothing. We meant something to him- a regret, a past he didn’t want to acknowledge. My temple burned.

“Come on. Stay behind me.” We made it out without a fight and no more than paper wads thrown at us, but the insults were heavy and non-stop:

“Get lost freaks!”

“If you want to be dicked by a guy, they’ve got surgeries for that now. Snip snip!”

“Don’t walk near me, AIDS-whore!”

“Tighten those asses, fags coming through, don’t let em doggy you!”

“What’s wrong with women, huh? You some sort of misogynist?”

By the time we reached the perimeter fence, my heart felt like it weighed as much as a Metal Coat and rested somewhere in my digestive tract. Gill tried a reassuring pat on the back, but I shrugged it off. I escorted him to the quickie-mart down the block. The insults ceased as the crowd thinned out. No one from the school goes past the mart. I could see him off safely from here, or so I assumed.

“Hey Volkner.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to stick up for me.”

“Yeah right.”

“But you think I’m an abomination.”

“No I don’t. I don’t care what you are. You’re a guy who’s being thrown under the bus by society, and I’ve staked my life on sticking up for guys like you.”

“Ah. Haa... You should be a cop. Like my dad.”

I clenched my fist.

That’s a really underhanded thing to say.

Veilstone’s a rough city, but there’s still only been one police officer killed in the line of duty in the last ten years.

“I’m not cop material,” I declared.

“You remind me of him, a little.”

“You were eight.”

“I still remember.”

“Go home. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay…”

Gill hesitated.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said.

 

* * *

 

Gill didn’t show up the next day. Or the day after. By the third, I was worried. I tried calling his house, but never got an answer. I went over, knocked on the door, still no answer. On Friday, I got a call from Mr. Kurama.

“Volkner, could you come to the principal’s office after class?”

I swore under my breath.

“Yes sir.”

The principal wasn’t there, though. It was the vice principal- and a police officer.

“This is him?” the officer asked.

“Yes.”

“What’s going on?”

The man motioned for me to sit. The vice principal exited the room.

“I’m Officer Craig Wilcox. I need to ask you some questions.”

“What’s going on?” I asked him. To myself- ‘ _Why’d the VP leave me alone with the police?_ ’.

“You are friends with an individual named Gillian Yasashi, correct?”

“What happened to him?” I asked, a half-squelched scream.

“I take that as a yes. When did you last see Gill?” the officer asked.

“Ah, ah, ahhh… a few days ago. I walked him to the quickie mart after school.”

“You walk home with him?”

“No, just to the quickie mart. What happened?”

“What did you do after you left him?”

“I went home,” I said.

“Can anyone verify that?” the officer asked.

That’s when my blood ran cold.

I realized then I was a suspect.

For there to be a suspect, there has to be a crime.

“No. No one. What’s going on?”

The man sighed, as if impatient, maybe irritated in thinking that the perpetrator would feign ignorance and concern for the victim.

“Mr. Yasashi was attacked on Drake Avenue.”

“Is he…?” I led on, fearful.

“He is at United Hospital being treated for bruises, three broken ribs, two stab wounds, a concussion… and electrocution burns.”

My insides churned.

“He’s alive,” I said.

“Yes.” The officer was looking directly at me, dissecting my reaction. _Well, take a look sir, this is what panic looks like._

“Is he going to be alright?”

“The doctors say he is stable and doing well, considering. The problem is that he was paralyzed and stunned via Pokemon attack prior to the assault. He has no recollection of the attack. We do not know who did this to him. We’re informed you own Electric type Pokemon. Is there some way you can show us you returned home? A text, a computer log, something of that nature?”

“I didn’t- it wasn’t me. I was doing chores when I got home. No one else was home. I didn’t meet anybody, but it wasn’t me. Gill is my friend. And I wouldn’t do that.”

“Sure, but we need proof. You do have a conflict record, Mr. Denzi.”

“Well, read the notes. See what started all those fights. I wouldn’t be the one hurting Gill.”

“Who would?”

I wracked my brain for a name. A few dozen came to mind.

“It could be anyone,” I said.

“That’s not very specific.”

“Hey, did they tell you about the bullying?”

“No, they did not.”

“Gill’s being bullied by the rest of the school. Everyone’s in on it. Any of the guys could’ve been the one who attacked Gill. Is he going to be alright? Can I see him?”

“Hold up. Sure, you can go see him, eventually. But first, I need names and details. Who? Where? Why did they bully Yasashi?”

“Why? Because he’s gay,” I answered.

“Gay? As in...?”

“Homosexual,” I clarified.

The police officer looked me in the eye for a second, and then headed for the door.

“That’ll be all. You can go.”

My heart sank.

He’s not going to a damn thing. No one’s going to get punished for this. Just like the rape.

 

* * *

 

I did go to see Gill. It wasn’t as serious as I thought, even though it looked awful. The boy’s body was as blue as his hair. The knife wounds I was so concerned over were in his shoulder. There was a wad of bandages as big as a basketball wrapped around it.

“How’re you holding up?” I asked.

“I’ve had worse,” he joked.

“That’s not funny,” I replied. “Gill, I’m glad you’re still here.”

“Right.”

“When you get better, don’t come back to school,” I added.

“Oh….”

“Don’t say ‘oh’, I’m warning you, stay home.”

Gill, bandages and bruises and all, brought himself to an upright position.

“I have to. I need to come back.”

“Fuck no!”

“Just one more time. I’ve had all this time at the hospital, and I know what I’ve got to do and what I’ve got to say now.”

“Why? No you don’t. Stay put. No more of this.”

“Volkner, do you say that because you’re concerned for me? Or are you saying that to spare yourself the indignity of being seen with me?”

Thugs use blades of steel, but Gill only needs words to stab a guy where it really hurts.

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Do you even know yourself?” he replied. “You haven’t been to my house once since then. And you haven’t invited me over either.”

The knife dug deeper into my belly.

“You’re colder than you used to be. But I guess that’s understandable. Not just because you’re offended by who I am, but I think it’s more the conflict all around us that makes it difficult for you. It’s okay, I forgive you for it. Because, for the times I did come to school, you still stuck by me. I appreciate that. That said, even if it puts you into a hard spot, I need to go back.”

He smiled.

I never could understand that.

No matter how bad it gets, he can still smile at the world and himself and his sorry place in it.

“I’ve lived with the insults all my life, and it doesn’t hurt me. Even this doesn’t hurt so much,” he said, lifting his bandaged arms, “it’s just inconvenient. There is only one thing that has been difficult for me the past month. Because of that, I need to go back. I need to talk to him.”

“Gill,” I uttered, knowing just what he was after. “He betrayed you, to save his own skin. You’ve got nothing to say to him. I already tried, I fought with him, it didn’t do anything.”

“ _I_ need to talk with him.” Gill was not shying away or weakening. This was as much resolve as I’ve ever seen from him.

“So be it. I can’t protect you this time,” I said thoughtlessly.

Another twist of the knife- _Like you “protected” him on the patio that day, Volkner?_

“I’m hoping you won’t have to,” he said.

 

* * *

 

It was hard, getting to this part of the story and keeping calm. This was the event horizon of the black hole of my past. Going beyond it, there’s no going back.

But Morty’s just sitting there, taking it all in calmly, nodding and uttering at the right times to show he’s following along and comprehending everything, but never interrupting. A natural-born listener, is what he is. I guess that’s one of the reasons he’s so popular. He only spoke up when I paused for too long.

“Then what? Did Gill meet Flint?”

“Eventually. There was a lot of stuff in between. I got attacked.”

“I thought they wouldn’t mess with you.”

“It was an ambush, and ten to one. Fought as good as I could, but, well, numbers. No broken bones, though, managed to stay out of the hospital, unlike Gill. Guy named Clark Matcher, friend of Beanie, organized it. He got jailed for it. My locker was trashed about twice a week. Alice, of course, stonewalled me. It wasn’t any one thing, but all of it, the relentless trashing of my life and my character, and not being able to turn to anyone or trust anyone, and the constant denial of interaction, that was getting deep under my skin. I was angry, and mad, and pretty much fully converted into the mope machine you found when we first met.”

“I see,” Morty said, nodding.

“Just summarizing this, so you have an idea of my mindset that day. June 5th. Monday. Last Monday of high school. That’s the day Gill came back.”

 

* * *

 

“Make sure you pick up the college entrance exam applications!”

“Yeah yeah.”

“I’m serious! You have to study for them!”

“Yeah yeah.”

“Don’t ‘yeah yeah’ me!”

“I’ll pick them up. Bye.”

I stepped out the door.

The morning skies were overcast. It’ll probably rain today. Great.

Veilstone’s too far north. Even in the middle of summer the weather’s terrible.

I need out of this city. Away from the god-awful weather. Away from the drab concrete storefronts. Away from the anti-intellectual ludites. Just a little longer, I’ll be free, whether it’s to go to college, or do something else.

I thought I felt a drop on my arm. My eyes went upwards. Nothing, no encore. Probably just the wind blowing residue off the powerlines. My focus remained skyward, hoping for something to break up the blank, grey, endless slate.

 _Somewhere with sunshine_.

I made it through the parking lot, the lobby, and the commons okay. It was the west hallway that I got a hint something was off. Gaggles of students congregated here and there, closer than usual. Conversations typically voiced aloud were hushed and subdued. A shrimpy freshman sprinted up to a group of upperclassmen, and then the whole group rushed off. A gut feeling steered me in the direction of their flight. The volume increased as I went along, passing the library, cafeteria, lockers, worklab, each successive place empty or in the process of emptying out.

“-in the gymnasium,” I heard whispered. I could have guessed as much. The gym was the informal holding pen for the masses while they waited for class. About a third of the school hung out there before the bell each morning. By the time I arrived, way more than a third was packed into the room. The noise and motion seemed to gravitate towards one area, a stack of bleachers. I made my way in that direction, guessing, and dreading, the source of the commotion.

“What’re you going to do? Let them have their way?”

“We can’t just sit by this time. We’ve got to set an example.”

“I don’t want to have to resort to force. Nor do I want to get the faculty involved.”

Voices I recognized. A group of well-dressed students stood aside, engaged in heated debate. It was the student government, I saw, led by their illustriously aloof leader, Jackson. I paused to listen in.

“The teachers aren’t doing anything. Look at Mr. Basutoi, he’s just sitting there watching it.”

“I’m sure he’ll step in if it turns violent.”

“Another reason I don’t want to use force.”

“But you can’t let him stay here. They’ll call you a bleeding heart, turn on _you_.”

“We’ll talk to him.”

“What if he won’t listen?”

“I’ve already tried warning him, he shook his head and wouldn’t budge.”

“What is he even doing here? School’s almost over. He’s a senior right? He doesn’t need to be here. This is a mess he’s causing.”

“He wants to see Flint.”

“Flint? Really? Didn’t he already…”

“Who knows.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know. Not in here, I think.”

“What could he want with Flint? I don’t like this. You shouldn’t cave in. Not to the demands of a deviant.”

“No. We will. If that’s all he wants, let them meet. This is Flint’s responsibility. He must have known about his deviancy for a long time now. Go get him.”

“How do you know that?”

“He must have. It doesn’t matter, we’ll throw it all on his shoulders. Go get him. Tell him to get rid of the thing.”

“What if he doesn’t? They were friends for a long time.”

“Why’d he keep protecting him if he knew his secret?”

“I think he didn’t know. Jack, give Flint the benefit of the doubt and don’t make him do this.”

“Shut up Heather.”

“She’s not got her head on right, she’s crushing on him.”

“Shut it, all of you. Heather, I _am_ giving him the benefit of the doubt, and a chance to prove he knows right from wrong. I want you to find Flint.”

“…okay.”

Flint’s the last person I wanted involved. Why the hell did my friend need to see him? Why at school, with all these bigoted kids here? Don’t tell me it was some righteous belief, like he wanted the world to hear them hash out their differences and learn a lesson in tolerance. That’s one of his few faults, he doesn’t have a good grasp on the divide between the private and public.

Well… nah, it was probably the only place he knew Flint couldn’t avoid him. And causing a ruckus by showing up was the only way to force Flint to talk to him.

And there he is.

Sitting in the middle of the bleachers, backpack in front of him, using it as a shield to ward off the various bits of trash that came flying his way. It couldn’t defend him against the verbal insults, but those seemed as effective as a Sand Attack on a Pidgey. His expression was downcast but determined, confident in his ability to suffer gracefully. There was a perimeter around him, a no-man’s land devoid of people, as if his sexual orientation were somehow contagious. I stepped onto the first row of seats.

“Anyone got eggs- oh look, it’s the dike.”

Yeah, that’s what they call me now, and I get how it came about. How do you insult a guy who’s presumed gay but still acts tough? You equate him with a butch woman.

“Isn’t that Volkner?”

“Has he come to save his fuckbuddy?”

“Hey, Alice, that’s your boyfriend.”

“What?!”

I came halfway up the bleachers, far enough to bring me to eye level with Gill. That left five rows of seats separating us. With the other students keeping back, I was alone, neither with the crowd nor with Gill.

He seemed surprised to see me.

“Hey,” I said.

“Volkner.”

“Let’s go.” I jerked my head towards the exit.

“No.” He declined.

“We can talk to Flint after graduation.”

“I need to see him now,” Gill insisted.

“Why are you being stubborn? This is insane. You’re going to get lynched.”

“That’s fine. As long as I get to see him.”

“Are you serious? Just listen to them!” I waited a moment, and sure enough, some strangers’ voices chirped in with the perfect conversation to prove my point:

“Didn’t he learn his lesson when he got stabbed?”

“I hope they get his stupid haircut next time.”

“Don’t you mean his throat?”

“I think lopping his dick off would be funnier.”

I sighed. “See? They’ll do that to you a second time, and you’re not going to end up at the hospital after this one.”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t care what happens to you?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s-”

“Gill!”

The crowd parted, giving one lone figure a wide berth. Flint stood in the center of the schism, commanding the total attention of the room.

“Flint!”

“Get down here!”

Gill was reluctant to, he saw the fury in Flint’s eyes, and hesitated.

“Now!”

Gill slowly complied. I thought he looked weak, feeble as an old man one fall away from palliative care.

They stood before each other-

Flint: tall, reared up, indignant, incensed, a tower of smoldering flame.

Gill: small, hunched, trembling, a whirlpool of fear and regret.

Why’d Gill suffer so much to come back and confront this traitor? I hoped that I would at least find out the answer to that here.

“Flint, I-”

“Get lost!” Flint yelled.

“Ehh?!”

Gill stood agape.

“You heard me. Get lost.”

“But, I need to tell you-”

“I don’t care what the hell you have to say, I’m not going to listen. Get out.”

“But, maybe, not here?” Gill asked helplessly. “Maybe at your place?”

“I don’t mean from this school, Gill- I mean this city. Get out. Go to Hearthome. They’ll accept you there. They celebrate your kind. No one wants to see you here.”

“Flint, please! This isn’t you! You’re stronger than this, stronger than _them_!”

A stir went through the crowd.

“You don’t belong here,” Flint reiterated.

“And you do?” Gill asked.

“Yes!”

“That’s not true! You’re not-”

“Get lost!” Flint cut him off. Now he’s the one shaking.

“No, you shut up and listen!” Gill cried. “I think I could take a hundred Thunderbolts easier than I bear seeing see you slinking into their fold, like some lowlife Bidoof desperate for acceptance! You were always stronger than me, in everything, so you didn’t need to struggle for others’ respect! They’re the ones that should be groveling to you! So this attitude of yours doesn’t make any sense to me, and I wish you would drop it!”

“I’m not caving in to anyone. _I_ want you gone! Got it? Now shut the fuck up and get lost already!”

“So it’s true.”

Gill’s determination flickered.

“How could you say that? How could you be like that? Flint, it wasn’t just your strength I admired. It was your kindness too. And your ideals. And honesty. You’re a better person than them. You’re better than this. I think you’re lying to yourself about what you really believe in, and you’re letting their opinions get to you and change you, and I know that bothers you, being forced to act a certain way because of what others think.”

“Shut up!” Flint yelled.

Gill softened.

“Just, please, I want to go back to how we used to be. And then I want us to go on. Grow. Learn. Experience new things. We’re almost free of this school. Why are you listening to kids with no say in your future?”

“Shut up,” Flint repeated, lower and deeper in tone.

“I know you. You’re stronger than this. You can change them. If you just have the courage. Come on. Please?”

Gill held out his hand.

“Like when we first met?” he added.

He stepped forward.

Flint stood still, transfixed.

Gill reached him. His hand was out, freely given, desperately begging for a simple handshake. Tears ringed hopeful eyes.

“I can’t, Gill,” Flint said quietly.

“Remember what you always told me? ‘ _It’s easy. Just do it._ ’ You were right. I could do it. And so could you.”

Flint frowned, then smirked, then frowned again. His body stuttered and stopped. His arm came up, then retracted. Gill held his breath, perking up, as if silently urging him on. Flint finally raised his hand out to Gill’s.

Someone in the crowd snickered.

Flint glanced around.

Everyone was staring. _Everyone_.

Flint turned back to Gill, and abruptly slapped his proffered hand away.

“No.”

Gill clutched his hand. His tears were flowing now, gushing out.

Flint backed off, shaking his head.

“No.”

He turned to walk away.

“Why?”

“Get out of here. Don’t say anything else. I never want to see you again,” Flint said over his shoulder.

“WHY?!” Gill cried. “How could you?!” He started chasing after Flint. “Even after all that, even when you yourself-” _WUMP!_

Gill went flying backwards. The hit was so violent Gill’s head snapped against his neck muscles’ limit. The boy crumpled where he stood.

“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET LOST!!! **NOW**!!!”

Flint held his fist high, ready to strike again, but Gill showed no signs of getting up. A few seconds paused to assure this, and then Flint departed. He sprinted through the crowd, dodging between them as if on the basketball court, suddenly seeming desperate to get out of the gym as quickly as possible. A murmur rippled through the onlookers.

I took a few steps forward, wondering if Gill was knocked out, or worse. Coming closer, I heard him- sobbing, uncontrollably. That gave me relief, he wasn’t seriously injured, but also hesitation. There wasn’t an explicit reason for me to go over and comfort him, but I felt like I should. That’s what a friend would do.

Yet, even before I could take two steps, a voice halted me in place.

“Volkner.”

I looked for the source. A girl.

She brushed through the crowd to come to a stand aside me, arms crossed, face a scowl.

“Alice? I thought we were done as a couple,” I noted dryly.

“That depends.”

“On what?” I asked, surprisingly eager in reply. I can’t lie and say I didn’t miss her. Or at least, the companionship and physical affection. Maybe she can be reasoned with?

“On what you do here,” she answered.

Oh. She doesn’t sound compromising.

“Come here, get away from him.”

I realized I was out in the void once again, apart from the crowd and apart from Gill. Alice was at the edge, backed up against the crowd. She was still a part of them. I was not.

She motioned for me to join her.

“Let me make sure he’s okay and then we’ll talk.”

“No. Ignore him. Come here now,” she demanded.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because he’s into boys? Is that all you’ve got against him?”

“It doesn’t matter about that anymore.”

“Look, you don’t have to worry. I’m not his lover. I’m not gay. I’m not even his friend, really. I just don’t want to see someone beat up for such a Pidgey-shit reason.”

“Volkner, don’t you get it? We’re way beyond that now. Flint got the message. Now it’s your turn. This is your last chance. Not just with me. With the whole school.”

“What do you mean? School’s over in a week,” I said.

“Do you really think, just because we’re about to graduate, it ends here? We’re all going to the same places, we’re still stuck in this city. This will follow you.”

“Not me. I’m applying to Sunyshore Polytech,” I said. She gritted her teeth, not liking that answer. I wonder why, she was always pushing me to get into a good school.

“So what?” she said. “What about me? Do you still want me or not? Because if you do, you’d better step over here right now.”

“Hey, sure, I’ll do what you ask. Just let me get the crybaby out of here first, and then you’ll never have to see him again.”

“Idiot! You still don’t get it!”

“What don’t I get?”

“That this is about more than one pervert. We don’t like him, we made that abundantly clear, more than clear, and yet, after all our warnings, he still came back. He’s thumbing his nose at us, at our society, and if we let him get away with it, the rest of the pervs will come crawling out of the woodwork demanding “acceptance” and “coexistence”, when it’s just an excuse to live out their hedonistic fantasies in our faces, mocking us and corrupting our values. Get it now? If you help him even one bit, you’re going against us too.”

“I…”

She’s got everyone within earshot nodding along.

“So are you going to be a man or not?” she demanded.

“My conscience or my manhood, are those my choices? Where’s a third option? A compromise?”

“Volkner, there is no third option! It’s him or me! Us or him! Pick one, you can’t have both!”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not going to be associate with a perverted homosexual, and I will not date a man who associates with one either. So decide!”

“I...” I shook my head, unable to answer.

“Come with me.” It was an order from Alice. She held out her hand. “Let go of him. He was never your friend, just a leech.”

I glanced towards Gill.

He was curled up, eyes closed, still shell-shocked by the pain of the punch. He looked helpless. A baby, really. I could never think of him as a man. To me, he was always an annoying younger brother, one I didn’t like and could hardly stand, but a loved one nonetheless who needed protection.

Then I glanced around, and again, found those damn, damning eyes all staring down on me.

A shiver ran through my body.

“I can’t.”

“What is it?” Alice asked. “Say something!”

I remained silent, deadlocked, unable to decide.

“So him?” she intoned.

I shook my head.

“Then come over here!”

I shook my head.

“Damnit, make up your mind!”

Another shake.

“Hmph!” She lost her temper. “That attitude, that right there! I see how it is.”

“Alice…”

I took one hesitant step towards her.

“Stop. It’s over. We’re done.”

“But I never even answered,” I said. It was her turn to shake her head, a sneer on her face.

“Too late. I’m leaving. But before I go, just let me give you some advice.”

“What?”

“Do you know what the right answer would’ve been, just now? Doing _anything_. It doesn’t matter what. I would have preferred it if you said sayonara to the perv and came to class with me, but you didn’t. Still, if you had went to him, comforted him, even though they’d think you a traitor and a pervert yourself, I could still respect you, for being brave enough and stubborn enough to take a stand for what you believe in. Or if you had just hit me, like you’ve wanted to do so many times before, at least I would know you could man up to your feelings instead of wussing out on saying what you really felt. But what did you do? What was your big decision? To do nothing! Just stand there! Like always!

Volkner, just because you’re shy and reserved doesn’t mean everyone else doesn’t see through your Tauros-shit. You’re a condescending, arrogant narcissist, judging all of us for not living up to your impossible moral standards, and keeping quiet and pretending to be humble doesn’t negate that, it just shows you don’t have the balls to back up your arrogance. You know what you are? A fag.”

“I’m not a fag,” I insisted, weakly.

“Yeah, I know you, I know you’re not gay, but you might as well be. A fag’s not defined by what gender turns him on, but by his spineless, cowardly, indecisive, whiny nature that also happens to typify most gays. So go ahead, go to Gill, kiss him, tell him everything will be alright. Become lovers, relish it, because a homosexual romance is the closest thing you’ll ever come to a steady relationship.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying no woman is ever going to debase herself by dating a fag like you!”

“Loser!”

“Freak!”

“Creep!”

“Pervert!”

The other girls piled on the insults.

I raised my fist.

She deserves it. She’s smirking, she _wants_ it.

I can’t.

I let down my fist.

The insults came hurling in like hailstones. I endured them for a minute, trying to summon the courage to do something, anything. But every answer, every action, seemed like a losing prospect. There was nothing I could do.

_Act, you idiot._

Follow your first impulse.

“Where are you going?” Alice asked, alarmed.

I took a step towards her.

“What are you doing? Hey? Don’t touch me! Get off!” She slapped my outstretched hands away. I held them out still, pleading.

“Can’t we just forget this, and go back to how it used to be?” I begged.

“It’s too late, Volkner.” She backed away.

I was caught gaping at the crowd.

“Rejected!” someone hooted. Insults gave way to laughter.

That didn’t work.

Nothing works. Like I thought.

It’s all hopeless.

I can’t stand it.

Any of it.

What Alice said- all the trash talk in the world can’t erase the feelings I once had for her. She was my first love, we shared some fond memories. How can something so good and right turn so evil?

Because of Gill. If he hadn’t been gay, if we hadn’t been friends-

No, Volkner, you can’t think like that. Even a murderer deserves better than what Gill is getting. A criminal deserves due process, and could expect at least formality and maturity from his prosecutors. These people are giving him nothing but the most unabashed vulgarity known to their little minds. Not even a death-row convict would be so coldly abandoned by his best friend. Gill is not guilty of anything. Alice is the one at fault here. Remember that.

But…

But… she’s right.

If not her, who? What female would ever love me?

What’s the use of being heterosexual if I could never attract an actual woman? What woman would go out with a guy who strikes against the grain of society just to defend a homosexual? Wouldn’t it be impossible not to assume he was gay himself? And what woman would love that kind of guy?

I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be caught between two ultimatums, picking sides. I don’t want to make choices. I don’t want to cause pain or receive pain, physical or emotional. I don’t want to be called a spineless wimp, a nobody, a sandbag. But I don’t want to stand up and man up, because that brings another slew of insults, more negativity, more fighting.

What the hell should I do?

“Volkner.”

Who?

Alice is gone, she’s stormed off.

It was Gill calling me.

I turned, to find him still on the ground, now on his knees.

I took a step back. It was a small gesture, just an impulse, no thought behind it and no meaning meant by it. But the crowd saw it.

There was a murmur.

“Hehehe.”

“Got him.”

“Now he sees it.”

“Mmhmm.”

Approval.

Something I hadn’t received in a long time.

Gill’s eyes were staring at me. He was waiting for me to do something.

A bell rang out over the air. Classes were about to start.

“I’ll talk to you later about this,” I said, and briskly walked off.

 

* * *

 

“So that was that?” Morty asked. “That was the whole ordeal?”

“Let me ask you something,” I said. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? I mean, the worst decision, the one you most regret.”

“Hmm.” Morty nodded to himself, thinking. “Well, it was probably disobeying my mother and running off to play.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

I sat back in the couch.

“So?” he asked.

“That’s it,” I said. “That’s all.”

“Heh. You’re the one lying now. How come you’re here? What caused this? You were feeling bad about abandoning your friend that day?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“There’s no ‘and’.”

“Are you sure?” he said.

“I don’t trust you. You lied to me.”

Morty sighed, looking down. When he spoke up, he didn’t look me in the eye.

“I ran off to play when I was supposed to be watching out for my sick uncle. While I was away, he suffered a stroke and later died. I’m not going to sit here and say that was my worst decision ever, because I’ve had hundreds of them, and enough have a legit claim to being called my worst. But, I don’t think any one of them, or even all of them together, define me. I’m trying to understand what caused you to become this way, and it’s hard for me to imagine that something like what you’ve told me would drive you to looking down a gun barrel. Was it guilt? Was it hopelessness? Did you think the world lacked any redeeming value after what you witnessed?” He paused, I remained silent. “Hey, come on, I told you the truth, now it’s your turn to speak up. Are you gay, is that what this is about? No? Or is it because Alice’s words turned out true, and you’re still single?”

“Morty, shut up,” I said, gruffly.

“Well?”

“You want to know the reason? Read that letter.”

He hesitated, looked at me for confirmation, saw the grim expression I had, and got to reading. He made it a third of the way down before stopping.

“Oh.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day was empty, and I don’t remember much of it. I don’t think I ever got around to picking up the college exam forms. I tried talking with Alice again, but she wouldn’t speak to me, just shoved me away. I didn’t notice anyone bugging me with insults or pranks. Gill I saw multiple times, all in the same place- sitting in the front office, staring blankly at a wall. I never went in to say hi to him.

I went home alone and still thinking everything through.

“Hey Mom.”

“Hello Volkner. How was your day?”

“The usual,” I said, lying.

“Good to hear. Did you pick up the exam forms?”

“Uh, no.”

“No?!”

“I forgot.”

“Well you’d better get them tomorrow.”

“I will. I decided I want to apply to Sunyshore Poly.”

“Well you’re going to need good grades on the exam to get in, but I’m glad you finally made up your mind.”

“Right.” I nodded away.

I decided to try and study, but failed miserably. I couldn’t stop thinking about Gill, Alice, the students, Flint, everything. My head collapsed onto my math textbook. Mom poked her head in.

“We’re going to Chica’s tonight, if you want to come.”

“Okay.”

I hate Chica’s, but free food is always nice.

To go or not to go, that is the question.

Whether tis better to suffer the burn and grumbles of over-spiced chili, or by opposition, end all possibility, and starve.

“Well?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Well you’ve got until your sister gets here in ten minutes to decide.”

“Okay.”

Seven minutes later, I was still undecided. My phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Volkner.”

“Gill?” What’s he doing, calling me? “What’s up?”

“I… I could use someone to talk to.”

“Who, me? Okay. Um, I’m listening.”

“In person,” he said. His voice was flat.

“Uh, that’s not…” I looked downstairs, hearing my sister walking in.

“Volkner, please. Can you come over, please?” Gill asked in a whisper. That’s not like him.

“Volkner! We’re going!” mom shouted.

My gut wrenched.

I should go…

But then Alice’s face crossed my mind.

_No girl will date you!_

“Gill, I can’t. Not now. Gotta go.”

“Oh… right.”

“I’ll see you again.”

I clicked the line dead.

I’m hungry.

Or I was hungry, until I got downstairs, saw my half-sister and mother squabbling over some inane thing, with no one ready to go, and my stomach suddenly started doing flip-flops.

“Well?” mom asked.

“Yeah, I’ll pass. Actually, I’m going out.”

“Where to?”

“Flint’s,” I answered.

“Okay.”

I dressed and sprinted out the door.

Alice can go rot in hell. I’d rather be celibate for the rest of my life than be associated with a sex that can’t think beyond its own social status. Look at the internet, there’s proof enough that some leftie social-justice feminist would find a soft spot for me. It’s not like I’m lacking in the looks department, and I’ll get a good job after college. My prospects for a relationship aren’t doomed just because of this.

Yeah. Keep dreaming, Volkner.

For now, what’s important, is doing what you know is right.

Because you don’t want to end up like _him_.

I took a glance across the garage. One car was missing. It’s been missing for a while.

 _He_ didn’t have a shred of dignity left in his body. This situation would be a no-brainer for him. He’d do what was best for himself.

Which made this a no-brainer for me too. I was going to do what he wouldn’t. I’m not going to end up like him. I’m going to do the right thing.

It usually takes thirty minutes to walk to Gill’s house. We’re kind of at that point of urban density, between the city proper and the suburbs, where you can go anywhere without needing a car, if you’re determined enough. I was pretty determined, and power-walked the whole way, cutting it down to twenty minutes.

“What a crummy house,” I thought aloud.

More than six decades old. Originally white, but now mostly a dirty grey. Hadn’t been painted since its construction. Some of the boards were falling off, exposing insulation, with a decent chance that it was asbestos-laced. The building was small, you could drop it into my house’s footprint and still have room for a sidewalk all the way around. I paused, collected myself, and knocked.

No answer.

I peeked through the window. The television was on. I returned to the door, knocked some more, and when that didn’t work, I just yanked at the doorknob. It was unlocked.

“Hello? Mrs. Yasashi?” I entered the family room and found her.

Gill’s mother was passed out on the couch, surrounded by a forest of empty beer and wine bottles. A reality show droned on in the background. Above the TV set on a shelf was a picture framed by faded flowers and ribbons. In it was a beaming young man, dark haired, suited in a blue police uniform.

“Mrs. Yasashi?” I asked.

She was snoring lightly. Out cold.

Gill’s bedroom was upstairs. I limped up the steps, went for his door, and entered- just to be stopped.

“The hell? Gill?! What’s up? It’s Volkner. Hey!” The door wouldn’t budge. I knocked, but got no answer.

I tried again, thinking it was locked, but the knob moved. It was just the door itself that wouldn’t open.

“Hey Gill, do you got something blocking this? Come on, answer me! Open up! Listen, I’m sorry, for everything. I was wrong, and a coward, and I will try my best to make it up, so just open- yeah, screw it, I’m coming in.”

I rammed the door with my shoulder. It gave way, easier than expected, and I stumbled into the room, landing on my hands and knees.

“Gill?” I slowly got up and looked around, finding a tidy, but soulless, bedroom. The window was open, there was some notes on the desk, his backpack was in the corner. What’s out the window? A rooftop. Maybe he shimmied out? Where would he go? Why did he block the door?

“The hell did he use to-” I turned around to check the backside of the door.

…

…

…

Like everything else in our friendship, my first reaction was to take one step back, before checking myself and rushing forward.

Gill was hanging from the doorknob, a cord around his neck.

 


	8. See You Again

Everyone dies. That’s a fact of life. And with 100% of humanity dying at some point or another, that also means most people will lose friends and loved ones. It’s a common experience- but it doesn’t usually happen like this. Usually, you learn about a death from someone telling you about it, a relative or a doctor. I didn’t get that luxury. I stumbled into it, dumb and blindsided.

Now every memory of the kid is painted over by the image of a blue face and limp body. Every experience we shared fast forwards to the one experience I could never share with him. All thoughts of happiness, or hell, even nuisance, pity, or mere boredom, are replaced with the same sickness of the chest that overcame me that day. It’s an awful, unbearable feeling, and everyone who’s ever come face to face with sudden, violent mortality would tell you the same thing: there’s no cure. It doesn’t fade. You don’t forget. It hurts, it strikes fear, and it never goes away.

When they gathered the remnants of the Yasashi family together for the funeral, most politely wore the grim façade expected of such an occasion. You couldn’t expect more emotion from people who rarely, if ever, visited their nephew. The only person who genuinely loved him was doing her part, sobbing uncontrollably beneath her veil. If I had dwelled on it, I would have felt bad for her. This would be the second time a beloved young man was ripped from her. I didn’t dwell on her though.

Still gripped by the shock of finding his corpse, I was nearly comatose for most of the proceedings.

I don’t remember the priest’s words or any of the ceremony. It was just… a blur, a desperate struggle to not think, so that my thoughts didn’t wander back to memory.

My next cognizance was of family members slowly cajoling Mrs. Yasashi from the grave.

The priest, the gravesmen, a school representative, and the family all departed in one flock. Someone asked me if I was coming, but I shook my head and stayed behind. I took to surveying his resting place.

It was an open cemetery, with rows and rows of tightly packed grave markers- the poor man’s graveyard. His marker was a plain rectangle embedded into the earth, with no extraneous words on it, just a name and dates. The fresh-lain dirt formed a neat rectangle in the grass; it was loose and fluffy, a consequence of the gravesmens’ courtesy of not tamping it down during the ceremony.

The sky was half-clouded today. Not very windy. The temperature was nice. A cloud passed over the sun, creating shade across the cemetery. If only every day could be like this. I’m concentrating on the air gently blowing over my hair, the temperature on my skin, the thickness of the air, and for a moment everything else faded away from thought. Nature is good like that, it reduces everything before it.

Standing there and basking in the elements, it wasn’t long before I heard footsteps in the grass. They’d managed to get close without me noticing. I turned, and was shocked. It was Flint.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, voicing my first impulse- anger. Flint only paused a moment, before resuming his slow march towards me.

“Hey. What gives? You’ve got no right to be here,” I said. He wasn’t listening. He was heading straight for the grave.

“It’s too damn late, Flint. Get lost. You don’t belong here, not after what you did. Hey, I’m talking to you!” He was walking past me. I reached out to stop him, and found myself forcibly shoved aside. I stumbled, lost my footing, and dropped to one knee, barely catching myself. It’d been a week since I had a proper meal. I didn’t have the energy to rise up and fight him. I couldn’t stop him, so I resorted to argument.

“Why?” I called out to Flint’s back. “You ditched him when he most needed you. Were you that scared of everyone else, you couldn’t handle the criticism of just being his friend? Or were you truly revolted by his sexuality? Hey, you! Flint! Answer me! Don’t come slinking here after the fact just because you feel guilty!”

Flint reached the grave and fell. He tipped over, landing on his hands and knees.

Then I saw the truth, and it hit my conscious like a crack of thunder.

“I’m sorry,” Flint uttered, pathetically.

He was shaking all over. A stream of tears poured off his cheeks.

“I’m sorry!”

He flopped onto the dirt mound, down flat on his belly, and started clawing at the earth, rubbing his face in it, mixing his tears with the soil. His body writhed and convulsed. It was undignified, and pathetic, and human. That’s what real emotion looked like- the look and sounds of someone who fucked up, and who regretted it, deeply, intrinsically. Not the pitiless automatonic reaction you pass off as emotion.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant for this. I wanted to see you. I thought- I was an idiot. Gill. Gill. Gill… I- I- I…hah hah _aahhHHHHHHHH_!” His words trailed off into unintelligible moaning that grew into a pitiable wail.

I never suspected this. I cursed my introverted, self-centered mindset that blinded me to it.

Flint and Gill… if I had known then, I could have made sense of what was happening. I could have stopped this.

If I had known from the start, I could have prevented everything- the rape, the betrayal, the death.

Be real, Volkner. Would you? Because you could have stopped each one of those things as-is, without any foreknowledge, if you didn’t let fear get in the way.

If only…

But this is reality. And the reality is, you’re a coward.

Even now.

You don’t know what to do. So you’ll run away.

I plodded off, trying and failing to ignore Flint’s dirge in the background. It was still there, in my head, long after I’d gone far enough away to stop hearing it.

Keep going. It’ll fade. Just, run away. You don’t have to deal with it if you ignore it. No stress, no decisions, no pain. The easy way out. That’s you, Volkner.

 

* * *

 

There was no totally escaping it, though.

“Volkner Denzi.”

“Yeah? What am I here for?”

“Mrs. Yasashi said that these personal effects were to be handed over to you.”

“But I don’t want them.”

“Too bad.”

“Just throw it in the trash.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“See for yourself.”

I did. They’d arranged the items in a standard 16 in. cardboard box. There were trophies, plaques, books, notebooks, and other knickknacks. What lay on top caught my attention, of course. A folded-up piece of paper, and four Pokeballs.

“The note was found on his desk. It was addressed to you, among others.”

“I don’t want to read it.”

I did take the box though. When I got home, I brought it to my backyard and took out the Pokeballs.

“ _Vapora!_ ”

“ _Jyn-jyn-jynx!_ ”

“ _Goldeen!_ ”

“ _Blub-blob._ ”

I could have laughed. Should have. Tried. It was funny. Gill thought he was going to take on the Pokemon League with these. A Vaproeon, Jynx, Goldeen, and Shellos. Not much of an army. Not even a proper six member Pokemon team.

“ _Vorpa? Vill? Vill? Vill?_ ”

Vaporeon looked around for his master.

“It’s just me,” I said.

Vaporeon trotted up to me, head cocked. ‘ _Where’s my master?_ ’ his expression was asking.

“He- ah- uh…”

How the hell do you explain this to a Pokemon?!?!

I tried buying time. Goldeen was flopping around, obviously uncomfortable with being out of the water. I carried her to the drainage ditch running along the backside of the yard. There was a little puddle there, not even two inches deep. I set Goldeen in, went back, dragged out the garden hose, and began filling the ditch up. Goldeen relaxed a little bit as the water level covered her belly. Shellos jumped in for good measure. Vaporeon and Jynx followed me back and forth, anxiously waiting for an explanation.

“ _Vapoooor…_ ”

I sat down, cross-legged. Vaporeon daintily hopped into my lap. I started stroking him, the gesture unsure, hesitant. The Pokemon’s skin and fur was smooth, silky, and damp. Not like Electivire and Raichu’s bristles. My fingers traced along the fin.

“ _Reon?_ ” he asked. The same begging expression. ‘ _Where is Gill?_ ’

I mumbled and stuttered.

“ _Eon?_ ”

“He’s not here. He’s not coming back.”

“ _Vapora rarora! Oreon! Vaporeon?_ ” He nodded his head towards the front yard.

“He’s not anywhere else,” I said, guessing the Pokemon’s question.

“ _Vaporeon?_ ”

“He didn’t abandon you-” I choked up.

But he did.

But don’t tell Vaporeon that.

“He’s dead,” I spat out.

“ _Vapor?_ ” He doesn’t understand. He’s too young. Gill never taught him about death properly. Maybe he didn’t know how. Like me, right now. I don’t know how to convey this to a naïve creature.

“He went to a place that he can’t come back from, but it’s oaky, he’s not hurting anymore, no one can hurt him-”

I didn’t want to cry in front of these creatures. I abruptly flipped Vaporeon out of my lap and took off for my room.

 

* * *

 

I found Paul. Turns out, he went on to win the Sinnoh Championship a couple times, became one of the better trainers in the world; he fought his way to the Round of 64 in the World Championships in 2008, before running into the buzz-saw that is Tobias Wolfram. Also found out, whatever homosexual tendencies he might have had in his youth were gone. He’s got a fiancé, some Kalos girl named Miette (also sporting blue-hued hair, coincidence?) and by all accounts they’re madly in love.

I talked to him over the phone, delivered the news. He seemed upset, like he didn’t want to be bothered by his past. After some convincing, he agreed to take Gill’s Pokemon off my hands. I sent them off through the PC Network, never saying goodbye to Vaporeon.

Mom became intolerable. The divorce finally happened two weeks before I left for college. Dad changed his mind at the last minute, tried to stop it, tried to beg off and get back in her good graces. It didn’t work, and only sent the house into turmoil. When I wasn’t bickering with mom or suffering one of her long-winded tirades about dad, I was getting into petty arguments with my half-siblings. It’s like none of us considered each other family, like our bonds were expendable. In the end, I found out, they were. The money I was relying on to pay for college, a stack of treasury bonds gifted by my late grandmother, was stolen and used to pay for the divorce. When I left for Sunyshore Polytech, I had nothing to my name by a duffel bag, some Pokeballs, and 2,000,000P in debt.

It didn’t help that I flunked school after only two semesters. It turns out, missing 80% of the classes and just showing up for exams isn’t viable in college.

The only emotion I ever felt was anger.

Anger at people. All the time, for the gravest and meanest of offenses. People who threw trash on the ground, who raced through traffic, who threw up angry little opinions on the internet, who had to be know-it-alls, who hoarded Pokemon. Every last one of them ticked me off. Everything _sucked_.

With no other options for money, I started picking fights in the back-alley battle clubs. I was good, my Pokemon were really good, and we won a lot. It also provided an outlet for my anger. The local gym had an open position, I applied and won my way into that. The next year, the Gym Leader retired. I applied for the vacancy and won that too.

But being good at something doesn’t mean you enjoy it. Other people work really hard to be great trainers, but I guess I got by on pure talent. In my mind, Pokemon battles were simple, every opponent’s strategy easily reducible to its components. Their strengths, weakness, the way to exploit each, effortlessly mapped out by my mind. I take no pride and no pleasure in a mental gift that I never worked for. The Pokemon I caught were smart, had good genes, and grew strong on their own. It seemed like, as demotivated and listless as I was, they compensated by working hard and pushing themselves to the limit. Maybe it was an attempt by them to cheer me up, trying to push me into action by their own example. It didn’t work. Once I’d gotten to the top of the Nihon Gym Leader rankings, I stopped caring about my win ratio or chances for promotion.

Flint and I reconciled, mainly by avoiding talking about the past. I never brought up Gill, and he never was a selfish dick again. While I became a Gym Leader, he went the competitive route and eventually joined the Sinnoh Elite Four. He urged me to join him. I declined. Maybe following our original dream was his way of honoring Gill’s memory. It wasn’t something I could do.

 Pokemon battles became dull. The one thing I liked about them growing up was the strategy aspect, but as I said, it got to the point where I just saw the same strategies over and over again, and never experienced anything new. Beyond that, I was never comfortable with the violence in them. Sometimes it was bearable, but other times, it seemed like trainers and the Pokemon themselves were too eager to inflict pain on others. I secretly rejoiced whenever a judge declared a TKO without me having to faint the opponent’s Pokemon. I started leveraging my Electric specialty, getting the potency of Thunder Wave to a level where I knew I could lock down most of the weak Pokemon I faced and get them declared ineligible without having to batter them into unconsciousness.

It wasn’t that I got bored because I was too good. Sure, losses were rare. It didn’t matter to me, though. It wasn’t even how stale the combat was. What really got to me was the stagnant parade of personalities that came through my gym doors. They were all the same.

“I’m going to be a Pokemon Master!”

“I want to compete in the championship tournaments!”

“I want to collect them all!”

I wanted to scream in their face.

“ _You and every other naïve shit-faced faggot!_ _Don’t you have something better to do with your life?!_ ”

Just because I flunked school didn’t mean I fell behind on my education. I did a lot of self-study, macro-scale electronic systems, mainly. I started volunteering with the city engineering department, helping them build the new electric grid and renewable energy plants. That was a good distraction, for a while. Then I got bored of that too.

Boredom.

Anger.

Guilt.

Distraction.

Escapism.

Guilt over escapism.

An endless waltz through these emotions. That was my everyday life.

My romantic adventures- don’t even ask. Well, let’s just say, sorry as it was, my relationship with Alice was more successful than anything I’ve had since.

Flint wasn’t helpful. He told me to get out, run around the world, refresh my perspective. Nope. No good. I just saw more of the same, in my eyes. Selfish, ignorant humans, all happier than me, and yet less deserving of that happiness.

Then I met you, Morty.

You epitomized everything I hated in the world. Your charisma, your aloofness, your smarts, the way you could slither around society making friends of strangers and making fools of enemies, your infallible ways with women. Was I jealous? I don’t know. I didn’t want what you had. I wanted you to be as miserable as me.

Then I found out about your family, what you’ve gone through, and that made me feel like scum. It made me question myself.

If Morty can go through what he has, and still be so successful and so at peace with his life, why can’t you, Volkner? Why can’t you?

And the answer to that question? Absolutely nothing positive.

 

* * *

 

Tonight felt different.

Everything was going wrong, and yet nothing was happening.

I stared at the box laying on my bed. It’s been years since I taped it shut. I never looked through it, never read the note laying inside it. It took too much emotional energy to even contemplate opening it. I had always found an excuse and procrastinated.

But now, it’s now or never.

I cut the tape with a box-cutter and flipped open the cardboard. One by one, the contents came out:

A trophy for a reading program.

A model train.

A mini-keyboard. I tried playing it, but the batteries were dead.

There was a picture of the three of us. We were standing side-by-side, shouting and throwing fists into the air. This must’ve been the triple battle we won against the Professor, taken by one of Flint’s fangirls.

Other little things came out, most that meant nothing to me. Stacks of paper full of music compositions. A notebook- I looked inside and promptly closed it in disgust- sketches of gay porn. On second thought, I forced myself to open it and flip through it, ignoring the porn and searching for anything written. There was nothing, though, Gill was never in the habit of writing out his thoughts. He was too shy to even share his inner feelings with inanimate paper.

Then there was nothing left but the note.

I remember the official telling me it was found on his desk, and was addressed to me. It was folded in half. I clutched it, wandered around the apartment with it, feeling ill and debating whether I should even read it.

I took a deep breath.

I need some kind of answer. Something to make sense of my life, or at least, push me onto a different path.

I sat on the couch, opened the letter, read it, dropped it back on the table.

It felt like the black ink of the writing clung to my fingers, crawling up my hands, my arms, across my skin, slowly engulfing me. It was heavy, crushing even. That hollow feeling of nothing mattering came out, full force. All that went through my head were the thousand inane phrases that have passed over my conscious a million times over the years:

“It was your fault.” “You should have stopped them.” “You could have stopped him.” “You should have called him.” “You shouldn’t have left him hanging.” “You should have stood up to Flint.” “You should have stood up to Alice.” “You should have stood up to Beanie.” “You should have called out the callous police officer.” “You should have called out the school counselor.” “You should have filed charges against the principal.” “You should have exploded on the student body.” “You should have punched Alice.” “You should have comforted Gill.” “You should have supported him.” “You should have walked beside him all the way home.” “You should have said out loud what you really thought.” “You should have cared.” “They’re all worthless.” “The world is worthless.” “People are trash.” “People are selfish.” “People are full of shit.” “A flood should come and end them all.” “Kill them all.” “You can’t kill them all. You shouldn’t. A lone human can’t be the one to do it, they’ll just blame the individual and learn nothing from it. It has to be big, and indiscriminate, and unstoppable. A meteor. A plague. Aliens.” “No, something of our doing. A climate disaster.” “I want them to suffer. I want them to suffer the consequences of their ignorant, selfish, piggish, ass-hole actions.” “It’ll never happen.” “They’re cockroaches. Pests, collectively invincible. A disease on the world.” “Disgusting.” “You disgust me.” “You’re amoral. You’re immoral, Volkner.” “You’re a murderer-in-the-making.” “No one wants you.” “You’re a hypocrite.” “You’re just as bad as them.” “You’re a coward.” “You did nothing.” “YOU DID NOTHING!!!” “This world is a never-ending stress, full of miserable feelings, ending in nothingness.” “Skip the middle. No one’s interested in the rising action anyways.” “It’s going to end anyways.” “It’s over.” “Gill did it, why can’t you? Man up, for once!” “Everything hurts.” “Boring.” “No meaning.” “The world’s nothing but a collection of mathematical formulas, all matter and energy on a predestined course, and your cognizance is nothing but an illusion created within a tiny bit of grey matter.” “There is no God.” “Your entire life will be the same as this, with no goals, no joy, nothing to show for it.” “No girl will ever love you.” “You’re not worthy of love.” “You’re not lovable.” “You’re no good as a human being.” “The only way you’d get sex from a girl is by paying for it.” “Call for help.” “There is no help.” “Flint betrayed you and Gill, remember?” “You’re just pretending you two have made up, but you still blame him, don’t you?” “Morty’s an ass, he can’t be trusted.” “No one can be trusted.” “Why would you even want a girlfriend? Look at Alice, she ran your life like a slave.” “Look at your parents, that’s what’ll happen to you even if you do get married.” “Why would you want that?” “Why would you want children? So you could have another stress on your life?” “Would you want to fall out of love with your kid? Would you want to get bored and tired of them too, just like Pokemon battles?” “What about your Pokemon?” “You don’t deserve them. They work ten times harder than you.” “They’ll all die before you anyways.” “Everyone dies.” “See? Where’s the meaning?” “Where’s the joy? Where’s the purpose?” “There’s nothing left for you.” “Going on just means more of the same.” “It’s a slow or fast march to the grave. Your pick.” “It all has to end.” “Skip the pain.” “Do it you coward!” “COWARD!” “Just do it!” “DO IT!” “There’s no hope.” “No one will listen!” “No one wants to talk to you!” “DO IT! END IT!”

My hands shook.

In one, a gun. In the other, a phone.

How it came to this, it didn’t matter. This was the choice before me.

My breath shook. My mind raced.

A twitch. I raised the gun an inch.

The still air was heavy, thick. It buoyed my hand, made it all too easy to keep raising the heavy weapon up, up, up, end over, until I was looking down the barrel. Just blackness down there.

It creeped me out, thinking about the bullet down there. I didn’t want to see the thing coming. So I raised the gun to my temple instead. Felt the cold metal on my skin. Put my finger on the trigger. Tested the resistance, depressed it to the edge, knew it was over.

A final thought crossed my mind.

_Gill called you, just before._

_You can do the same._

_And if you get the same answer you gave him, then you’ll finish it, just like him._

I raised the phone with my other hand and pressed the call button.

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

“Hey! This is Morty! I’m probably in the middle of a ghost hunt right now, so if you could leave a message, I’ll get back to you-”

So that’s that. Just pull the trigger and-

* _click_ *

“Hewwo?”

The voice message was interrupted. A tired, pouty voice came on the line.

“Morty.”

“Heeeeey Volkner. It’s kinda late, you drinking or something?”

“I need to talk.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“In person.”

“In wah now? You know I’m in Hearthome right now.”

“I just…”

“What’s the matter?”

“Could you come over?”

“I don’t wanna, not if you’re not gonna tell me why. It’s a long drive.”

“I see. Fine. Okay. See you later.”

“No no no. I’m curious now. What’s the matter? What’s on your mind? Tell me, good man, I am of ears and attention!”

“It’s… I don’t know who to talk to. I thought of you. Don’t even know if I can trust you.”

“Probably can’t, probably shouldn’t, but if you’re going to be all mopey like that, might as well be me, coz’ who else is going to put up with your griping? So what’s up now, another girl dump you?”

“Not a girl. The world.”

“Hey what what? * _yaaawwnnn_ * Don’t get all existential hyperbole on me.”

“I’ve got a gun.”

There was a long pause.

“Volkner. Listen to me. Listen. Are you listening?”

“Nnn.”

“Don’t do anything you can’t take back. Do you understand?”

“Nnn.”

“Volkner. VOLKNER! I am here. I am listening. I am talking to you. I am telling you, there are a lot of things that you can do, a lot of options; don’t go doing things that are permanent.”

“Why not?”

“Because I still need you to fix my glitched-up computer, damn it!”

I chuckled.

Humor. That’s his tactic. Arceus be damned, the bastard’s a genius at empathy.

I set the gun down on the table.

“Morty. I need help.”

 

* * *

 

The air smothered my final sentence, ending my narrative on a dismal note. Morty sat still, silent, contemplative. I fidgeted in my seat.

At last, he spoke up.

“First, I have a few questions.”

“Okay.”

“Did you ever try to talk to Flint about this?”

I shook my head.

“Someday, I want you to do that. You shared the same experience. I think it was even more personal for him than for you. Somehow, he’s coping, and you’re not. Or maybe he’s just melting down in private. Whichever way, I know it would definitely help to share with each other.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to him, I guess.”

That was something I always knew I should have done, but always shied away from for fearing of splitting our friendship apart.

“Next. Have you talked to your mother about this?”

“No.”

“Do you trust her?”

“No. We’re not close at all anymore.”

“That’s fine. Just had to ask.” He nodded to himself. “I’m glad I was here in Sinnoh for you, but I have to go back to Johto soon. I can’t be here for you all the time. I wish you had someone to rely on that was local.”

“Yeah. That would be nice. But, well, someone you can rely on, that’s a relationship, and those take time, and I kinda feel like I’m past the point of being able to form new ones.”

“Damn, you are a tough nut. If that’s how you’re gonna be, then you’d really better make nice with Flint.”

“We’ll see.”

“Third, why did it have to come to this?”

“It just, I don’t know why I’m like this,” I said.

“No, not that. I mean that.” He pointed to the disassembled gun on the counter. “Why did you want to end your life? Why was that the only option to you?”

“Because-“ Hell, if I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t even be contemplating the act. I tried answering, anyways. “There’s just something about stumbling onto the dead corpse of your friend that nullifies every argument for hope and continued existence.”

“I see.”

He got up.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Out. So are you. Get up.”

“What? No.”

“You don’t have a choice. We’re going out.”

“Where?”

“Come on.”

I reluctantly obeyed, dragging my feet along the way. He motioned for me to pick up a coat, get my shoes on, and grab other necessities.

“We’re going for a drive.”

“Where to?”

“You’ll see.”

I grabbed the letter on the way out. Morty had a rental sedan, a Neesan Intrepid, pulled up alongside the curb. He showed me to the passenger seat, and then got in behind the wheel. We set off.

“Where are we going?”

The car doors locked.

“Veilstone.”

I stared at him. He glanced at me, with a slight grin.

“No. No way.”

“You’re gonna go see him.”

“No. It’s a three hour drive.”

“I’ve already driven three hours to get here, and I’m willing to go another three. You can manage.”

“But-”

“Buckle up.”

“But-”

“Remember what your last words to Gill were? You made a promise to him, and you’re going to keep it. It’s about time you did.”

I leaned back, resigning myself to Morty’s dictates. It was too late to turn back. I was in his care now.

“Buckle up,” he repeated.

I sighed and clicked the seatbelt into place.

With the long road ahead of us, I turned to the letter in my hand. I knew what it said, but barely, not by heart. I’d not even taken the time to read it carefully through to the end, just enough to get the gist. Now I had the time and the proper frame of mind to understand Gill’s last words, and so I started reading it, this time with the hope that I could understand why these words sent me so close to the brink of self-annihilation.

 

* * *

 

_Dear Reader, whoever you may be,_

_I want to start by saying that it’s really hard to speak up and be heard. It feels like no one listens, that everyone is just pretending to listen while impatiently waiting for their turn to speak. Some people can get others’ attention because they are loud, and others because they are admired and respected, and others because they have power. I could never manage any of these, and so my voice was always relegated to background noise. It’s pretty sad, but I think I finally have your attention now, don’t I?_

_I am gay._

_That is the truth. I was born a male, raised a male, and think of myself as a male. I knew early on, maybe when I was seven, that I was attracted to other males. By thirteen, I knew that this attraction was romantic love, the same kind of love that my mother and father had shared. It was not hard to accept who I was, there was never confusion or doubt for me. At the same time, I was well aware of how society thought of people like me. In truth, it never offended me, that others would think like that. I had my own prejudices, and found it very hard to accept certain people who were different from me. I empathize with everyone, even those who tormented me. It’s not wrong. It’s a natural reaction, one they were born with. In truth, if I could have been born differently, with a different sexual orientation, I would have chosen that path. Not just because it would have made my life easier, but because I would not have to be a bother to everyone, so that we all could live our normal, comfortable existences. But I can’t change who I am on the inside, so I chose what I thought was the best solution- to keep who I was inside, inside. For your sake, for your sensibilities, that was a sacrifice I was willing to make, and never regretted it._

_Yet I was found out, and everyone reacted as they felt they should._

_I thought about moving away, and going somewhere where I could be accepted, and others would not be offended by my mere presence._

_But I found out, that was never a possibility. Because it was not about my sexuality. It was always me, my personality, my looks, my cowardice, my nuisance, my every fault and sin, that seemed universally offensive._

_I just can’t understand what is wrong between me and the world._

_Because, even those who did accept my sexuality, who seemed to love and care about me, in the end, I was still rejected._

_Mother, Paul, Flint, Volkner- I don’t know what I could have done to have earned your love and friendship. It seemed impossible. It seemed like there was something fundamentally wrong with me, that if even you could find pain in my companionship, than I must be the transgressor._

_There isn’t anything I can hope for. My music is awful, I am a weak trainer, my own Pokemon don’t respect me. I have no job prospects, no passion for a career, and no qualifications for even the most menial labor. I can’t bring myself to love a woman and seriously doubt any woman would have me. I can’t imagine finding love in another man that wouldn’t end in pain; that even requited, our love would still invite drama, and stress, and grief._

_There’s really nothing going for me._

_Really, nothing._

_All I do is bring pain to everyone who comes near me. I’m a mark of shame to them. A thorn in society’s side. So, I’ll do the right thing, what’s best for everyone, and remove myself. I hope you all take comfort, that I did this favor for you, of getting lost, like you all wanted. Please, if you ever remember me, just please remember that this wasn’t a selfish act. I love you all, even if you hate me for it._

_To those I loved, and who I thought loved me:_

_Mother- You can stop stressing over me, I’m out of your hair now._

_Paul – Your example gave me the foolish idea that I could be a league champion someday. I hope you finish what I could not._

_Flint – The same for you, although, I really think you should try basketball. And I knew you were never sure if you liked boys or girls. In truth, I’ve known you long enough to guess, you like both. Thank you, for showing me what love was, even if it couldn’t last._

_Volkner- You said you’ll see me again, but I don’t know if you meant it. Maybe, in the next life, if there is such a thing, we can talk. I hope you find something to fill that hole in your soul, and I hope I don’t see you too soon._

_And lastly,_

_Father- I still remember you. You were my beacon, my hope, and my joy, while I knew you. I wanted to grow up to be like you. Even long after, as the stories kept trickling in, I was always astounded by how much you meant to so many. It really hurt, more than I ever wanted to admit to anyone, more than the bullying, much worse than Flint’s fist or Beanie’s cock, to lose you._

_Father, your death taught me the most important lesson in life- evil always wins. Always. Because it’s permanent. Joy can always be taken away, what’s created can always be destroyed, and in the end, there’s only one end to look forward to. So, for me, it’s just a matter of minimizing the suffering._

_And for all of you still braving it- I hope you all find happiness, and never have to go through the **fucking misery** that was my life._

 

* * *

 

“He shouldn’t have held back,” I said absently.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay.”

It took to the very end before he let out even a hint of the bitterness that consumed him. I never suspected it, and I’m still trying to grasp how he managed to keep up the façade of kindness and patience for so long. Did he think he could appease the rest of us that way? As if we’d accept his sexuality and other eccentricities, as long he kept smiling and never got angry? Maybe, maybe not. I’ll never know what went on in his brain. I blew my chance to ask him, and I don’t trust this letter.

A deep sigh came out of me, venting the frustration before it burst.

“I’m tired,” I said.

“Take a nap.”

I closed my eyes and opened them. A hundred miles had passed. Another blink and fifty more miles were piled onto the odometer. The sun was climbing into the sky.

“Aren’t you tired?” I asked.

“Nope,” Morty replied.

“Don’t crash us.”

“I’m wide awake. This isn’t a strange time for me to stay up to.”

I checked the clock.

“It’s eight in the morning.”

“Not strange at all.”

I leaned back against the window.

“Where to?”

“Exit 15, Yatsura Highway.”

Tiredly, reluctantly, I gave him directions, so that by the half hour mark we pulled into a parking lot. Morty got out. I didn’t. He rounded the car to my door. He rapped his knuckles on the window. I got out.

“Seem familiar?”

“Yeah.”

I breathed in.

It smelled like Veilstone.

Trash and gasoline and pine needles and old furniture and cement.

The cemetery was rimmed by a fence and a line of trees. I couldn’t tell if they’d grown since I was last here. It’s been years, so probably. The interior was treeless, just row after row of identical gravestones. The gate was unlocked.

I slowly trudged to the grave. Morty kept a few paces back. It didn’t take long to find it.

Gillian Yasashi, Born April 8th 1988, Died June 5th 2006.

Grass had grown over the plot. Looks like it hasn’t been cut in a while.

“So, we’re here,” I said. “What now?”

Morty was silent, looking around, taking in all the features of the cemetery.

“I don’t know why you brought me all the way out here. I don’t feel anything.”

Morty picked his way around different graves, reading them, laying a hand on them. I recognized this behavior; he’s lost interest in me. For some reason, he gets weirdly relaxed and distant when visiting the dead. It’s hard to get him to focus, or for that matter, drag his butt away.

“Fine.” I turned back to Gill’s grave, stared at it, tried mustering up thoughts, emotions, things that never came to mind, or when they did, were weak and feeble and liable to fall away again.

The clearest image was Flint, rolling around in the dirt, emptying his soul out onto the cold ground.

How’d he do it? He seems pretty well adjusted now. Is there some zen secret to coping with utter grief?

Maybe it was because he could grieve, he could feel something then. I just felt hollow, nothing, a robot. That’s how I feel today. Even when I held the gun, it wasn’t an emotional peak, a rush of adrenaline that propelled me along. Just the opposite. It felt like all emotions, all hopes, all arguments were being drained from me, until annihilation looked like a natural and rational action.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Morty stepped up behind me. He started singing under his breath. It was some stupid pop song that had been popular recently.

But now, for once actually listening to the lyrics, the words caught me by surprise.

“ _It’s been a long day without you my friend,_

_And I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again,_

_We’ve come a long way from where we began,_

_Oh I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again._ ”

I don’t know what came over me. I broke. I dropped down to one knee and just started talking.

“Well Gill. I’m here.

Yeah, I know, late. Sorry. I hate being late. You know that. I’d make a bad robot. Technology is supposed to be more reliable, right?

Well, it’s been a while. Years, I guess. Things have changed. I don’t live in Veilstone anymore. Couldn’t wait to get out of there. I’m in Sunyshore now. Tried the whole college thing, dropped out- I don’t know why, I only needed six more credit hours to graduate. Not that I really needed a piece of paper to prove I know what I’m talking about. Got a job at the city utility company, repairing powerlines. Got a promotion, decided I didn’t like working, quit. Lucky me, I kept up with my Pokemon training. Got an internship at the gym there. The Gym Leader retired, and I beat out the other trainers for the job. So, never made it to the Pokemon League like we dreamed- settled for a Gym Leader position. Bet you didn’t see that coming.

Flint did it, though. He got into the Sinnoh tournament. Never won, made it close, the finals actually, three times! They started calling him Runner Runner, you know, for runner-up. Well, he was good enough they gave him an Elite Four position.

He had a lot of other opportunities. A good basketball scholarship offer, a bunch of scouts said he’d be one-and-done, entering the pros early, making nines. Other people wanted him to go into show business. Hell, his science grades were pretty good, I think he could’ve made a decent chemist if he wanted to. But he chose Pokemon Battling. For you, I think.

Girls? Ha. Not sure you’d even be interested hearing about it. Well, anyways. I’m all out of luck there. After Alice, couldn’t string three dates together. Gotten a lot of rejection. What hurts is that they’ll be interested at first,  but after a couple one-on-one dates they change their minds and dump me. I guess my tall, quiet guy routine needs work. Flint’s no better. Well, honestly, he likes to sleep around. Mostly women, but I’ve heard some men too. He has commitment issues, and his work is pretty chaotic- long stretches of free time, but then he’ll be on burn for months and disappear.

That’s about how we’ve been.

Hmm. Let’s see. Yeah. Pokemon. They’re doing alright. Jolteon misses his siblings. Electivire is working hard, Raichu is sort of a goof off and a slacker. I’ve caught more, but I don’t get much time with them. I have my main three be assistant coaches, each has their platoon to work with while I come up with strategy and do gym chores.

I don’t know if you’re okay with this, but you kinda left without instructions. I gave your Pokemon to Paul. Yeah, I found him. Paul’s doing real well. He won the Sinnoh tournament three years ago, and went on to be a really, really, really good trainer. Like, knockout round in the world championship good. He seemed focused on his goals when I talked to him. He wasn’t happy to hear about you. He’s got a woman now, apparently decided the whole homosexual lifestyle wasn’t for him. Well, I checked back on him a few months ago, and your Pokemon are doing fine. Vaporeon is part of his main rotation, he turned out to be pretty strong. It’s the truth, you’d know that‘s true because Paul’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t use a Pokemon if he thought it was weak. Jynx is their cook and nutritionist. Shellos evolved. She spends most of her time in the PC. Goldeen is in a private pond busy raising a family. I’d say they’re being taken care of as well as can be expected.

Your mother moved in with your grandparents. Last I heard, her health isn’t doing too well. All the alcohol is catching up to her. I… don’t really know how she’s doing emotionally. I haven’t talked to her since that day.

School-wise- no one talked about you. You were forgotten. There was only one week left.

One week.

Juniors didn’t care. All the seniors graduated and split up. Some college, some tech schools, a lot just started low wage jobs or moved away. A bunch of the guys who bullied you are in jail now. Kind of turns out, they were just mean, evil people, period. It wasn’t personal towards you, they just needed a target for their impulses.

If you had only waited one more week…

Flint came here, right after.

You should have seen him.

He bawled like a baby.

He did love you. More than you know.

I don’t think you understand what you did to him, showing up at school like that. What, did you think he was going to reconcile with you, and if everyone saw that, they’d accept you? That was a longshot, and it put Flint in a bad position. You should have known. Our idols aren’t freer than us. They don’t have more power than us, they have less. Flint, he’s the one who had to shoulder everyone’s expectations. The guy you looked up to? Yeah, you weren’t the only one. All the kids worshipped him. And guess what? You were so hurt because he didn’t act like you wanted? Well, there were a thousand kids who expected him to act a certain way too. Flint’s not about putting a close, personal relationship above society’s wishes. He’s an extreme extrovert. He likes everyone, he wants to do what’s best for everyone. You seriously could’ve gotten back with him, if you had done it in private, so that he didn’t have to make a big, public declaration that would have pissed off and alienated his other thousand admirers.

What I’m getting at is, it’s your fault.”

I gritted my teeth.

What the hell is this?

Anger?

Judgment?

I knew it was wrong, that I shouldn’t be saying these things, but with everything being what it was, and Morty looking over my shoulder and keeping me honest, I kept going.

“That’s right. You had to go and off yourself, and to this day, I always secretly thought, it was your own damn fault. And don’t get on to me for swearing. I’ve tried really hard to avoid cuss words, but it’s not easy, going through the shit I’ve been through- the shit _you’ve_ put me through. You did this to yourself. Not the fact that you liked guys, and not because you were weird or couldn’t get along with the dumb idjits. Nah. It was because you thought you needed everyone to be your friend. Well, that gets annoying, someone trying to foist their friendship onto you. A lot of people were just creeped out by it. And if they don’t like you, getting all butthurt about it is not the end of the world. You’re allowed to have enemies. You can’t take things so personally. Yeah yeah, I know you said you understand them and forgive them; I call Tauros-shit. It tore you up, didn’t it? Not being able to be accepted. Not getting the public loving from Flint. That’s why you’re under there now, isn’t it?

Well, too bad. That was your decision too. If you had even said what you were going to do, I could’ve given you a hundred better options. Nope. You had to be evasive about the damn affair, until it was too late. It was _you_ , no one else, just _you_ \- you naïve, overly sensitive shit caused all this!”

_WHOOSH!_

I let out a big breath.

My lungs felt cooler, aired out.

“I wish… I wanted to tell you, that afternoon, that you were a dumbass, and I never thought of you as a friend.

Flint was my friend. We knew each other before we could talk. To me, a friend is someone you can rely on. It’s someone who makes you feel better being around them, who shares your pain and joy. Not someone you share your deepest darkest feelings with because you’re trying to gain their sympathy- that’s for lovers. You do it because you need to share these feelings with someone. Lovers can’t be totally honest with each other. They need to keep some secrets from each other so they don’t end up hating each other, ‘cause they want to keep that love thing going. Love is too damn fragile. Friendship’s not like that. A real friend doesn’t have that pressure. Between me and Flint, there was honesty and trust I never felt with anyone else.

Until you showed up.

Then Flint got distant, we had the big fight, and now I can’t talk much more than Pokemon battles and the weather with him. Bros before man-hoes didn’t apply, I guess.

Well, I resented that.

But that’s beside the point.

Because you and Flint had a thing, you were always around, and I couldn’t do anything without pissing off Flint. I just had to tolerate you, try to roll with your good traits and ignore your annoying ones. That’s not friendship. Do you know what that’s called?

 _Family_.

If I had the choice in the beginning, I would’ve shrugged you off. Thanks to Flint, I couldn’t, you were there, and we got to be close after all those years. You can’t spend that much time around someone and not form a bond, even if it’s not pure friendship. So to me, you were always the annoying little brother I never had. I didn’t really like you, but I _cared_ about you.

And I’m sorry I only realized how much I cared about you this late.

So I’ll say now what I should have said that day:

You’re a dumbass, Gill. You made the worst possible decision. Flint’s weak to peer pressure, you should’ve caught him on the way home, away from school. No, I don’t want to come over, your house reeks of alcohol and you’re acting like a baby. Now, once you’re done moping, if you’re still upset about it, you come over to _my_ house and we can talk. Why? Because I said so. Dude, you’re a damn pain sometimes, but I care about you. And no homo, but I love you. So don’t do anything stupid.”

My body trembled.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I repeated, faintly.

If I had said that, maybe…

But I didn’t, and now we’re here.

Gill is dead.

He killed himself.

There’s nothing that can change that.

I didn’t do anything about it.

Nothing can change that fact either.

Regret can’t change the past. Forgiveness doesn’t erase a sin. The pain doesn’t go away.

I clutched the grass, trying to bite back the emotions welling up inside me.

“I’m pathetic.”

“You can’t say that,” Morty said.

“I am. I abandoned him, but I couldn’t even do it all the way and stop caring. I couldn’t move on, so I got a gun. But I couldn’t even manage that. I can’t do anything. Alice was right.”

“Don’t say it.”

“But it’s true.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s true. You can’t acknowledge the truth.”

“The truth is truth, it’s there, it’s always there. Just because I hate gravity and wish I could fly and dream about it and fake myself into believing it, doesn’t ever mean I’ll lift off the ground.”

“Hey, you can build a plane, or ride a Pokemon.”

“It’s a damn metaphor. Gill is dead. I caused it. We all caused it. And I’m going to die too. How do I build a plane and fly away from that?”

“You fake it really hard.”

“I… he’s…”

I toppled over.

The unfairness of it all, the finality, the primal existential dread every human faces at the end of their life suddenly hit me in one go. I nearly fell over. Morty ducked around and caught me. His arms wrapped around me, holding me up and embracing me. I started crying into his shoulder.

“I want him back. My friends. I want to go back. I don’t want to die.”

“It’ll be alright.”

 “It won’t.”

“You’ve got to try.”

“It’s too damn hard.”

“You’ve got to.”

“It’s impossible. Everything’s against me.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“How?”

“You just said you don’t want to die. Do you mean that?”

“But how do I live?”

“You try.”

“Trying is too hard.”

Round and round we were going, a never ending spiral of nihilism versus hopeless optimism. I felt like I was arguing with Gill’s infinite patience again.

“Volksy Volksy Volksy. You can’t do this. You can’t kill yourself. That’s the easy way out.”

“But…”

Morty held me out at arms’ length. He stared at me, eye to eye, inches away.

“You’re like a thunderbolt, Volkner. You’ve gone your entire life looking for the path of least resistance. The only place that ever leads is straight into the ground.” He nodded towards the grave. “You’ve got to find a better way. You have to. You have to.”

“It’s too painful. It’s too hard,” I muttered.

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because it will be worth it.”

I was bowing my head, looking at the ground. His hand caught me by the back of the head and forced it up, back to eye level.

“You a need girlfriend. Not any ole slut that will show you her pussy. A real woman, someone you can fall in love with. You’ve never known how tender they can be. It’s the best feeling in the world, and can erase any pain, no matter how bad. Trust me, I’ve been there, looking death in the face, and now I’ve found someone to love, and it’s beyond helpful with coping.”

“A girlfriend? Are you kidding me? That’s beyond impossible.” I would laugh or cry, the notion was too damn ridiculous, but managed neither.

“It’s not impossible. If you’re willing to work for it, if you try really hard, good things will come, happy memories, and a girlfriend.”

I shook my head.

“That’s not how the universe works.”

Morty smiled, his trademark goofy, all-knowing grin.

“Hey, you want proof? Tell me, Mr. Genius, what happens when electrons meet resistance?”

“They jump states?” I guessed, not getting the point.

Morty’s eyes opened wide.

“They light up the world!”

 

* * *

 

Epilogue

Not much has changed since that night I stared down the barrel of a gun. It’s not like anything Morty said or anything I’ve done since has erased all the ill feelings, the psychosomatic insanity, and the existential dread that nestled in my mind like a permanent tumor. But I never got back to a point where I wanted to end it all. I blame Morty’s advice- he successfully managed to convince me to start actively chasing girls. Between that idiot quest and my two jobs suddenly kicking into high gear, I’ve simply been too busy to entertain nihilism.

“Yo.”

Morty took a seat beside me at the bar.

“How’s the summit? Having fun?”

“Nope.”

“Aww, that’s too bad. I’m having a blast. So much to do! There’s a tournament for Gym Leaders at the end, looking forward to it. Me and Eusine, we… ah, maybe I shouldn’t be telling you, I might have to battle you.”

“I’m not interested.”

“What? Seriously? There’s no way you can’t join. It’s, like, an obligation. You’re ranked how high, nationally?”

I waved him off.

“I don’t know.”

“Third, third best Gym Leader in the nation. You can’t turn that down.”

He would keep track of such stupid things.

“Whatever.”

Morty ordered a drink.

“You want one?”

“No.”

“Jeez, what’s gotten into you? You’re moping again. I don’t like mopey dick. He’s a no fun killjoy to be around.”

“Morty, remember that night?”

“Which night? Oh, THAT one.”

I stared at him, grumpily, eyebrows scrunched.

“What?”

“Our promise we made on the way home.”

“What now? It’s all so fuzzy.”

“You’re not to tell anyone about what happened. Ever.”

“I know, I know, I was kidding. I won’t divulge it with anyone. Not even a shrink, though I still think you need one. But why’re you bringing that up?”

“I just want to be sure you didn’t break that promise.”

“No, hell no. I swear I haven’t talked about it to anyone, now or ever.”

I sighed.

“So it wasn’t you. It was me. Blah.”

“What now?”

“I was just clinging to a conspiracy theory to explain today’s disaster.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, I hate being led on.”

“So do I.”

“Hmm? Oh! Girl trouble?”

“I could really kill you, for putting that stupid idea into my brain. ‘O, you need a girlfriend Volkner.’ Damn it, all that crap with Gill wasn’t half as mind-numbing as dealing with women. I don’t understand them.”

“Did you get dumped again?”

“Yes.”

“God and Arceus, Volkner, stoooooooop! Just because she fawned over your good looks doesn’t mean she’s right for you. I told you, stop going for the ditzes and sluts, they do not suit you, they will not work for you, they are for me, they are mine, hands off!”

“It wasn’t like that. I did what you said, found a girl who looked innocent, intelligent, reserved. A nice girl. A sweet girl. A shy, conservative girl. Perfect formula, the exact one you told me to look for.”

“And?”

“She just wants to be friends. I blew it.”

“Aww, shucks, you can’t win them all. You probably botched the delivery. Like usual. Keep trying, you’ll get better at flirting.”

“But I really liked her.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“But…” I huffed. “It’s all so unfair.”

“It’s not your fault. Trust me, you’ll find the one, she’s out there.”

“Yeah, she’s there, and she rejected me.”

“Damn, Volkner. You’ve fallen hard.”

“It’s only been a couple hours. Give me time, maybe I’ll get over it… or maybe I should try again, apologize to her and…”

“Sheesh! Well, I wouldn’t recommend it, the friend zone’s real. In all likelihood, the more you push her, the less she’ll like you. But hey, you’re welcome to try. There’s always that last little chance that you can change her mind, right? Like, a 1% chance. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you about the odds.”

“Morty, shut up.”

“Okay.”

I slumped down onto the table, head resting in my arms.

“Sure you don’t want a drink?”

“What am I supposed to do? How do you approach a woman? Talk to them, make them like you? It’s impossible.”

“Talk about Pokemon? I assume she’s a Gym Leader.”

“I did, that kind of worked, for a little while, but still…”

“Eh. Well,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I can try giving you pointers. What was her name, anyways? Was it that snow girl from Sinnoh, um, Candice was it?”

“No. I wouldn’t date her, she’s kind of crazy.”

“Then who?”

“Her name is Jasmine,” I answered with a heavy sigh.

“Jasmine Mikan?” Morty said, suddenly serious and sitting upright.

“You know her?”

Morty reached over and placed a hand on my shoulder. He locked eyes with me.

“My friend, you have made a _terrible_ mistake.”

 

* * *

  **The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> This was one of the hardest works for me to write, on account of trying to handle Volkner's reaction to the very dark and disturbing things he witnessed, and I'm not sure I did as good a job as I wanted. Nonetheless, I hope it was interesting, and helps inform you all to Volkner's character going forward.
> 
> And now, with that done, I am finished with side-stories. I will now resume work on Olivine Romance and hope to work on it straight through to its conclusion without further delay. I am hoping to get out a new chapter by March 4th, but no promises (I do have a good chunk of the next chapter written, though, so there's hope). The only possible delay is if I start working on these other fiction works I've been messing around with... anyways, see you soon!


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